


Myosotis

by Astra Altiora (astreanox)



Series: Shattered Heart, Burnt By Light [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Naminé (Kingdom Hearts), Bottom Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Eventual Smut, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Roxas and Ventus Are Siblings (Kingdom Hearts), Slow Burn, Sort of College Setting, Top Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Unrequited Crush, Vanitas & Naminé are best friends, Vanitas Is Bad at Feelings (Kingdom Hearts), Vanitas-centric (Kingdom Hearts), Ventus Needs a Hug (Kingdom Hearts)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:22:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 53,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23476915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astreanox/pseuds/Astra%20Altiora
Summary: The accident left them broken in more ways than one. Vanitas wakes up to familiar eyes on him. Deep down, he knew the hues of their irises, the curves of their lips and the sound of their voices… except one.
Relationships: Naminé/Riku (Kingdom Hearts), Roxas & Sora & Vanitas & Ventus (Kingdom Hearts), Roxas & Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts), Roxas/Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Sora & Ventus (Kingdom Hearts), Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: Shattered Heart, Burnt By Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688953
Comments: 50
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story would eventually lead into some mature themes in later chapters. I have already mapped out this entire thing, so it’s all about pushing out the chapters. More of the tagged characters would be introduced later, but for now, enjoy the VanVen content.

His neck hurts. Actually, it was his head… or was it his legs—to be candid, and indiscriminate, Vanitas would say that his entire body is in pain. It wasn't shearing like a gashed open wound, but it ached. It throbbed. It was radiating through his muscle tissue, bones and blood. That antagonizing _tremble_ followed, like his body were some rusted crankshaft that wouldn't budge. He could barely move that it hadn't occurred to him to force open the most important sense of all: his eyes. 

What the heck happened last night? Vanitas found himself under a pale fluorescent, his eyes squinted as they blinked, slowly getting used to the brightness that laid over him. He takes in the little that he could see, the white ceiling, the green curtains, beeping machines that run on a steady pace, and the smell of chemicals too strong to be just recreational. He definitely wasn't at their Orientation Representative's house, which begs the question: where in the fuck is he, and, he better not be hospitalized because of some stupid shit Sora did. He knew that stupid House Party would get him to no good, he should’ve just spent the night out. 

"Vanitas! You’re up?!” An impeccably familiar blonde dashed from the foot of his bed to his side. She gazed at him with excited glass blue eyes, her platinum blonde hair into a loose braid over her shoulder. If it wasn’t for the obvious age-gap and sudden growth spurt, Vanitas would have mistook her for his best friend, Naminé. 

“And… you are?” 

The blonde only sighed, an appreciative smile on her pinkish lips. “As expected.” 

Vanitas narrowed his eyes, aware of the expectant tone she used. Baffled as he is at waking up in the hospital, tied to machines and punctured for fluid. Was the actual cause of his incapacity worse than an overdose of liquor and _other substances_ from the party last night? He wondered, did he have to disclose this situation to the Dean’s Office or would he work out his suspension on his own terms.

Before he could go any further, the blonde took a deep breath and rubbed her hands together. She flicked his forehead with a reprimanding scowl. 

“Vanitas, you bonehead, it’s me, Naminé.” She takes the clipboard of his results and stats on the table beside the bed. Vanitas eyed her, his infamous scowl and drawn together brows an obvious result of her flick. “Looks like the mental faculty test was right—I’ll explain everything to you, listen carefully… Vanitas, you got into a car accident.”

Naminé had taken the liberty of explaining in excruciating detail the events of his accident via the medical history report and on-site record of the first responders. How he figured into a mess caused by one drunken teenager violating traffic rules, luckily (or unluckily) Vanitas took the brunt of the crash. The other drivers were only injured or identified to have severe concussions and dented cars, which is extremely light considering Vanitas’s car was totalled and he had loss 5 years of his life through it—

“What?” Vanitas nearly choked the question. “5 years?”

“What did you think I got through med school in a day, figure it out, Vani. Didn’t you think I looked different when you saw me, you didn’t even recognise me.”

Vanitas pursed his lips and sent a curious glare to her direction. “You do look old. Well, _older._ ”

“Really, you’re gonna go there?” She said in exasperation.

“I didn’t lie.” He grins, malicious and cheeky. 

She groaned and face-palmed herself. Her best friend is going through a memory crisis, a highly rare and extenuating circumstance, and yet, he still found it proper to dish out his crass language. Naminé had her doubts about the phenomenon, seeing as amnesia or memory loss was uncommon, but this Vanitas, this childish little shit stacked with the dextrose on his wrist, was definitely her best friend… albeit less mature than he had usually acted since turning 19. At the least, Vanitas was alive and well, even if he’s already making her want to knock him back out. 

“Anyway, I think by my assumptions I got it right, what do you know?” 

Vanitas glares at her. “Would you believe it if I said that it’s the middle of the semester, and I’ve just taken my midterm exam?”

“Right, 4 to 5 years then.”

Despite the grating statements he made, the shake over his hand didn’t escape Naminé’s sight. She knew that he’s currently having a quiet breakdown. The jerk facade was meant to throw her off, but he should really know better. 

“It’s a lot to take in. It’s alright, I’ll answer any question you have.”

Vanitas nodded and calmed himself. Sure, there was a part of him that continued his cynical thoughts, there was no logical case of amnesia. It wasn’t a recurring consequence of blunt force trauma or any of the sort, what kind of luck did he have that the one time he figured into an accident—which he’s already concluded wasn’t his fault—he takes the worst kind of life altering injury, 

“You said 5 years…. you mean to say, I’m 23?”

Naminé nodded. “You wanna check, old man?” 

“Ha-Ha, had your fun?” He holds his hand out to her.

She hands him a compact mirror from her white coat, the one she uses to check her appearance before heading into the patient's room and when she does go and have talks with her patients’ loved ones and guardians. It was a small round thing, double mirrored and Vanitas was staring dumbly at the reflection that was on it. She couldn’t hear his thoughts, but she didn’t need to. It was clear as day what Vanitas was thinking.

“Holy fuck. I look… _good_. I turned out alright.” Vanitas was touching his face, the tips of his fingers drawing a shaky line following his jaw. There was barely any of his boyish curve, it was tight and sharp, most like any other feature reflected on the small frame. He hands the mirror back to her. “Shit, that’s fucking unnatural, at least I didn’t lose my hair or what, could’ve been worse—wait, am I, did I pass HBU’s entrance?”

“You graduated from there, so yes, you did pass. Before you think of another stupid thing, I seem to recall you taking the bar exams earlier this year too. Results would be out in a month’s time.”

Vanitas nodded in slow shock. “W… what do I do, do I have a job?”

“You’re a lawyer.” She smiled kindly at him, knowing that Vanitas had worked hard to reach where he is. She stopped herself, gauging the response she got, but eventually she continued. “Well, you’ve yet to get your license so… as of right now, you’re mentored by Riku. He co-signs your work until you get one.”

Vanitas’s face turned sour. Riku, that boy that Naminé wanted to date. Perhaps, she already dated him… no, from the look on her face, Vanitas knew that Riku wasn’t just some name from his side of the story. Obviously, he meant something to the blonde and Vanitas was about to fixate and hit his mark when Naminé, with all sense of seriousness and somber, shook her head. 

He rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“Any more questions?” She smiles again, able to freely push back the Riku-issue to the back of her mind.

“How long was I out?” 

Naminé folded her arms over her chest, recounting the time from the Emergency Department, the surgery for his open wound injuries and horrible head concussion, her free time to actually inform his boss and Vanitas’s boyfriend about the accident— _oh, shit._

“Give or take the entire day, but the good thing is that you were allowed to be released today too. Hence, there’s nothing worth keeping you here for.” She laughs, awkward, the thought of a certain _uncertainty_ had come to her head and she doesn’t exactly know how to open it.

Vanitas wanted to ask, needed to ask, who was coming for him. He didn’t exactly live with his parents at 18, they were long gone by then, taken by some horrific accident he couldn’t remember. He was an orphan, and he loathed having to face some assigned guardian’s face and their look of expectant trouble he’d cause, or worse, the possible pity in their eyes. 

He didn’t notice it, but Naminé was quick to read the tightness of his lips and the forming look of anger on his pale face. She takes a deep breath and prayed to Destiny that Vanitas takes it well. 

“About your release. I already contacted your office, I’ve told them that you’re fine and would be out for the day and possibly two or three more days. You’ll be under observation and I’ll need you to schedule in check ups with me for at least three months so I check your recovery rate. It’s nothing serious, it’s just protocol.” 

Vanitas grunted in response, his mind too busy with the glaring reality that he might be dragged back to a safe-house or a Social Worker’s assigned housing. He worked hard to get into Radiant Garden, he placed all his chips in getting his own life away from ‘orphan’ Vanitas and now….

“Ven is gonna pick you up in about half an hour. He says he just has to finish work, but he’ll be here as soon as he can.” She says in the most nonchalant way possible. She averts her eyes to the suddenly most interesting white colored wall beside her.

“Who?” Vanitas was burning holes into her skull, through her being and existence. “ _Who,_ Naminé?”

“Ven… Ventus, your boyfriend. He’s really worried about you.” 

Eyes wide and cheeks flushed to an embarrassed pink, Vanitas’s jaw dropped. What exactly was it that he’s hearing. Ventus… Ven? He remembers knowing a Ventus from University, but certainly that overly idiotic and _obnoxiously_ loud blonde wasn’t the same Ventus as Naminé had been referring to, could she? There’s just no fucking way, no way in this existence that he’d be… _dating_ ‘that’ Ventus. 

“Ventus?! You’re fucking with me, huh?!” 

Naminé snorts. “We tried that, didn’t work out, remember?” 

“I forgot, you like pussies.” He said it in spite, but Naminé was flashing him the widest grin she could muster. 

"I seem to recall you, Vanitas, to be head over heels in love with your _boyfriend_ , Ventus.” 

“I… I…. I don’t… remember.” He whispers to himself, completely lost. “I don’t remember him, Nami, I can’t remember _us_ at all.”

She bit her lip and nodded, this was expected. She pulled herself back to her professional side, mentally scolding herself for being goaded into a fight Vanitas was not conditioned for. There were a lot of ways in how to deal with something as emotionally wrecking as memory loss, and it depends on the person aggrieved by it. Vanitas, being the cocky self-dependent aloof jerk that he is, didn’t need to be coddled _too_ much, she better temper her words or else he might think it wrong and assume he’s being pitied. 

“But you know, Ventus, right? We all went to the same University. You know him when we were all freshmen!” She says casually. “You already hung out with him, we were in the same group of friends.”

Vanitas shakes his head and presses his head to his propped up hands. “Yeah… but Naminé… didn’t he, wasn’t he… that obnoxiously loud classmate we had, he… he was sort of annoying.” His frustration and disbelief melded into one emotion that sounded a lot closer to humiliation than anything else. 

“Vanitas!” She glared at him and thwacked his head lightly. “This is exactly what I was worried about! Don't say those things, you love Ven a lot. Well… 23-year-old you loves him a lot, and he wouldn’t appreciate his moronic teenaged self ruining what he has with Ven.” 

He could only gawk at her, his lips pressed together, brows furrowed in focus. If his memory would like to come back, now would be a good time. He can’t see his supposed boyfriend, he didn’t like Ventus. He was annoying, he paraded through campus with his bright colored wardrobe, weird fashion sense as if he didn’t have a care in the world, he was one of those know-it-all classmates that likes to rub it in other people’s faces that they can’t compare to him. He’d compete and spout off nonsensical fights when they get the same marks in exams, or would follow him around when he thinks Vanitas didn’t notice. It was annoying, Ventus was annoying.

How much more annoying could he get 5 years from then? Would he be louder, more boisterous and shameless than before. Would he comment on how stupid Vanitas was for getting into an accident, and what atrocious clothing would he wear… something as eye-grabbing as his mismatching shirts, probably. He could already feel his concussion returning. 

_How in the fuck… what the hell…_

“He’s… just not…” he groans and stuck out his lower lip. “... I can’t be his boyfriend, I can’t even believe I dated that loser! I just can’t!”

“Sheesh, you’re acting as if he’s gonna get all clingy and kiss with you from the get go. I told you, I’ve informed him of your condition so he won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“... we _kiss_?!” He was shocked and horrified. 

Naminé thwacked him again. “I swear, Vanitas, if you hurt Ven, _I’m_ gonna be the one to run you over. Listen, and listen good, you’re going to be **nice** to him.”

He scrunched his nose and averted his eyes. Scoffing, he said. “I am **_nice_ **.”

“No, you were not always nice to Ven. Especially 18-year-old you, you didn’t always get along. You are nice to me, Sora and the rest, yeah, but…. just trust me on this, you need to be nice to Ven. You have to be nice, you love him.”

 _Agh…._ Stop saying that! His mind complained and whined. He wanted to bang his head to the nearest surface, but the bandages wrapped around his head and peeking out from the hospital gown stopped him. He’s not about injure himself over something so small, he’s already done enough… how exactly is he gonna pay for all of these anyway, is he even loaded… he doesn’t have the faintest idea of how to even go home! Where was home… where is he, anyway…

“You’ve figured it out, huh?” Naminé’s mouth was set to a grimace. “That’s right, you don’t know how to get back to your life, so I suggest you don’t screw up what your 23-year-old self managed to build." 

He takes a deep breath and sighs. 

"You love him, Vanitas. You're bloody whipped for him." 

Vanitas knew arguing about it wouldn’t change a thing. It seemed like a delusion, w cruel sick joke, but he never knew Naminé to joke about something as serious at that. She was always the blunt and empathic type, a stark contrast to his avoidant straightforwardness. He could trust her, he could… it’s the idea that he even dated Ventus that made this all… seemed unfathomable. 

“Whatever you say, Naminé.”

  
  
  
  


Amusing. It's what Naminé would describe the scene she saw, the moment Ventus walked into the room, wearing his oversized white turtleneck sweater and tight gray plaid jeans, the cooler weather had dampened his side-swept blonde hair and colored his cheeks a faint glow of pink. He looked like he'd been crying, and Naminé understood. She turned his attention to Vanitas, her eyes ready to mentally scold him, if he doesn't do what he's been told and acted nice, but there was no need, his golden eyes was drawn to Ventus’s blue ones, absolutely mesmerized. 

Vanitas was dumbstruck. Eyes wide and lips pressed to a thin line. He crumpled the sheets under his fists and stared at Ventus's tiny way of sitting at the provided seat beside his bed. 

No one was going to break the silence. 

"You got here just in time, Ven!" She greets happily. "I'll process his release forms, and come back with Vanitas’s belongings." 

She exited the room with a bigger faith in Vanitas's dumb look of shock than anything. She would've eavesdropped, but figured that it was something she'd eventually hear about on one of their check-ups. The only concern that Naminé had, was that Teenage Vanitas was not exactly the nicest person in regards to Ven.

"Hey…" Ventus starts, his tone unsure and gentle. A far cry from the loudmouth Ventus he currently remembers. "I'm sorry I'm a bit late. How are you feeling?" 

_Shocked. Honestly._ He didn't look or feel like the Ventus he knew. His memory and assumptions had developed a boy that's as much like a picture of a walking Mardi Gras with confused colors and jovial eyes. He didn't expect a vision of white falling snow to walk in and Ventus's signature sunny smile gone from his face. This Ventus was solemn, cold and frozen by fear… of lost, _his_ lost—his _boyfriend_ Vanitas’s lost. He sees it, through the way Ventus wouldn't tear his eyes from him, the way his face falters at the sight of his bandaged wounds. It drove the weight on Vanitas's throat to drop to his stomach. He didn't know what to say…. How would his 23-year-old self talk to this Ventus, how would he… banish that look of forlorn in his eyes? 

Ventus fidgets under his quiet stare. Vanitas hasn't said a word, and yet his stare would have melted Ventus where he sat. He didn't know what he'd done wrong, what was it… did he have to introduce himself, what did Vanitas want, why was he just staring? He licks his lips and peeks at the intense golden eyes gazing over him, his nerves slowly turning to ice. 

He gulps and tries again. “Vanitas?”

“... Yeah.” Vanitas looked away and focused on the bunched up sheets under his fingers. His thoughts occupied by the hard difference in the image his 18 year old self had of Ventus, from the cute guy sat beside his bed. 

_Did I just call him… ‘cute’?_

“I asked, ‘How are you feeling’?”

_I was run over, what do you think?_

Ventus sat curled into himself, smaller than he really is. His arms were wound up around a bag he brought on his lap, his feet barely flat on the floor. His teeth played with his lips, softly biting at them, enough to draw the taste of rust in his mouth. His eyes would flutter towards him, every time he peeks to check if Vanitas still had his eyes on him. 

Their eyes meet and Ventus’s fidgeting doubles. 

“I… I… uhm, never mind. It’s a stupid question, forget it.” He draws his eyes back to his lap and notices the bag he’s hugging. “I brought you clothes! It’s why I took so long, I had to bring them… and I didn’t think you’d want to wear your ruined clothes anymore.” He says with a dried laugh.

_‘Be nice to him.’_

Vanitas curled and uncurled his grip over the sheets and steadied his breath. Ventus, 23-year-old Ventus… looked beautiful. It was weird to say and even think that this is the same boy that annoyed him for years. The air about him was different, his skin was still pale and smooth, his face still rounded and soft, but it was his overall presence that changed. He felt warm, calming, through his pained gazes and controlled stares, Vanitas knew there was much more warmth in them than he could show. He couldn’t blame him, he was partially the same. No matter how much he quietly praised this person beside him, he can’t lie and say that he actually remembered knowing him. 

The moment their eyes met, a cold shiver ran down Vanitas. There was no resemblance, no life-altering shake of his consciousness; his eyes have probably seared holes, if they could, for how long he tried to grasp at a connection in those deep blue eyes. Yet, he comes up with nothing. 

“No, it’s not. I… you know, I can’t really remember you—us, being together. Aside from that, Naminé said I was okay.”

_As ‘okay’ as having a 5 year memory gap in my head is._

Ventus let out a soft ‘oh’ and nodded. “That’s alright. It’s not your fault.”

_How very astute of you, would you like to tell me how an accident works?_

He didn’t need to look at Ventus to know that his comforting words were absent on his face. His tone carried it, his voice was too quiet and soft, of course he’s crestfallen. The person that was supposed to be in love with him can’t even remember anything about him, except the fact that he used to be annoyed with him. Vanitas bites his lower lip and raises his hand towards the bag on the other’s lap. 

"Well, what did you bring me?" He tried his best to remain neutral, the thought of being dressed like a clown lingered at the back of his mind. 

Ventus lights up at that. “I raided your closet!” He declares with a fond laugh. “You usually hate it when I stick my nose there, but I guess I had an excuse today… oh… but uhm, it’s your red shirt and black joggers… I didn’t know what to expect so I wanted you to feel comfortable.”

“It’s just a car crash.” Vanitas said, jokingly. 

_It’s not like I died_ , he wanted to add, but no sooner than ‘crash’ fell on his lips, Ventus’s mood changed. Abruptly, his smile was banished. He was back to curling over himself and venturing to the clothes folded inside the bag. Vanitas could see his dull eyes, the strange emptiness it held as it glossed over the articles inside. It didn’t take knowing Ventus to understand where his mind went. The accident plagued him, the memory of getting an emergency call, Ventus stuck somewhere he can’t help from. Ventus may have appeared different from his expectations, but that boy was always too weak-hearted to actually handle what he dished out back then. 

_Naminé was right. I should be nicer._

“Alright, I got the forms and here’s your phone and wallet.” 

Naminé walks inside the room, clipboard and a plastic bag containing the said items. She hands the forms and plastic to Vanitas and picks up the pen from her white coat. She glances between them and notices that glassy sheen over Ventus’s eyes. Was he about to shed more tears than she’d heard over the phone? She huffed, already making her conclusions. She takes the clipboard and ‘accidentally’ hits Vanitas’s head with it.

In a low whisper, she says, “I was gone for a minute!”

He glares at her. _What? I’m trying my best!_

 _‘Try harder.’_ She mouthed and turned her attention to Ventus with a gracious smile. “You have his clothes, right, Ven?”

Vanitas waited for Ventus’s hands to fold back to his side before reaching over the red clothing and spreading it over his chest. To the corner of his eyes, he sees Ventus avert his face, cheeks redder than before. Faintly, a certain feeling of smugness was all Vanitas felt as he took the gown off, exposing his bandaged chest and arms. He knew his face reflected an aged slimmer version of his face, he never really thought he’d have his chest and arms defined by flat muscle at 23. He stretched his arms up, to put the shirt on, suddenly a burning pain sliced through his biceps and neck, a whine escaped his lips.

“Vanitas!” Ventus hurriedly rushed to his side, his hand barely an inch away from touching his skin. He turns his attention towards him, worried eyes reflected on his golden irises. “Are you okay?” 

Vanitas nodded, hissing at the uncomfortable muscle ache. “I'm fine, Ventus.” 

At the sound of his name, Ventus gulped and stepped back. “Okay…”

He was flushed bright red that Naminé could have sworn she felt the heat that rose from his cheeks from where she was standing. She chuckles and watches Vanitas fumble with putting the shirt over his mess of black hair and arms. He clicked his tongue and made a show of pulling his shirt on, successfully. He sent a silent curse over to Naminé before pulling at the joggers folded on his bed. He grunts at the outfit he was supposed to sport, seems like he hadn’t really changed all that much after all. He was about to put it on, when his eyes darted towards Naminé in the room. He rolls his eyes, knowing that he’d lose the battle of shooing her outside for him to put pants on. 

In his mind, he was able to walk without wobbling, able to swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand without feeling a shooting stab from his legs to his spine. But in reality, he was doubling over at the mere act of swinging his legs to get off the bed, the act of setting foot on the floor had him struggling for strength.

“Naminé… are you sure he should go home, he looks like… he’s still in pain.” Ventus said, his voice shaky with concern. He would’ve dove in to help him, but his thoughts stayed, he’d hate for Vanitas to feel uncomfortable around him. “What if… he stays here—“

“I said ‘I’m fine’!” His tone was a little sharper than he expected it to come off as. He didn’t care for his best friend’s expression. He didn’t like being looked down on, never enjoyed it… he survived the worse, it’s just clothes! 

_Would you quit treating me like some baby? I’m completely fine. I’m capable of dressing myself!_ Vanitas grunted and stepped off the bed. He hated being babied, hated being coddled and protected, especially by someone like Ventus. He didn’t need his help, he didn’t need his pity. Can’t he see he’s recovered and in one piece? This overreaction is unnecessary.

He trudged towards the bathroom.

Naminé smiles at him, all malicious and teasing. “Are you sure, because Ven can help you change—“

“I can do it!” He groaned out and fought the urge to stop at the feeling of spikes on his feet. His face heated up, the color he’s sporting the same as the color of his shirt.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. It not like he hasn’t seen everything—“

“Naminé!” Ventus squeaked, turning the deepest shade of red.

Vanitas has never known dread, until this day. He’s never known the feeling of humiliation of this level until Naminé insinuated his sex life like it was second nature for him and Ventus to fuck. In the corners of his mind, he knew where that statement could be coming from, but… still! 

He needed to remind himself to set boundaries on what he’d be telling Naminé in the future.

…

_Technically, I am ‘in’ the future._

_How many times have I sworn to do this and never did?_

The five-year hole in his memory might have had the answer. 

  
  
  
  
  


"Do we live together?"

Ventus almost drops his jiggling keys on the floor, the question fanned a blush on his cheeks. The question was warranted, on Vanitas's part, he didn't understand why Ventus was so nervously jumpy around him. They were supposed to be together, weren't they? He might not have any memory of that, but the very least he could expect is for them to be somewhat comfortable around each other. Vanitas leaned against the wall, waiting for him to get their apartment door opened, which by his count has been five long minutes. His feet were killing him. 

"Yeah… we moved in together a month before you graduated." He answers calmly, fiddling with his keys, failing to open the door for a third time. 

Vanitas sighed, exasperated. "Do you want me to do that for you?" 

"N-no! Sorry, I… nearly got it." Ventus hums as he turns over the keys in his hands. For some reason, it seems as if he's forgotten which key was for which door. The longer Vanitas stared at him, the smaller he got in his eyes. He could see the blonde slowly grow into panic as his fingers ghost over the keys. 

"Uh… sorry, we just… uhm, we got keys for Aqua's apartment three floors up, and Sora and Roxas's apartment too, they live five floors up. So there's a lot of keys that look exactly the same." He explains, laughing nervously.

Vanitas only nods at him. His feet had grown numb and his legs were burning, his shoulder against the wall would fall off, if Ventus couldn't get that damn door open in the next ten seconds. 

"Ventus."

The sound of a door unlocking echoes around them, the sound of relief ebbed around Vanitas as the stupid wooden door finally opens to their single bedroom apartments. _Theirs._ He takes a deep breath and watches as Ventus steps aside to let him in first. 

"I tried to clean up as much as I could when I got off work and got your clothes." 

The apartment was quaint and simple, a room that's mostly made up of white walls, dark wood floors and furniture. Vanitas toed off his shoes and stepped into their living room. The couch was the centerpiece of the room, next to it was a coffee table with some albums stored under it, and to the wall facing the couch, a wide screen TV was hung. The surfaces of the shelves and side table held plenty of framed photographs that only proved what Naminé had been telling him:

_You love him, Vanitas.You’re bloody whipped for him._

In more than one photo, Vanitas's arm or arms were around Ventus and he'd have a smug smile over his face. _Proud_. He looked absolutely proud of making Ventus blush bright red in the photo, or made smile awkwardly as he stared dazed at the camera. In another, the one framed and hung along the wall towards the bedroom, a group picture of all their friends with Vanitas and Ventus at the center, everyone seemed to have their eyes and attention set on the both of them--

"Our bedroom is down the hall, after the kitchen, and to the other side is the way to the balcony." 

Vanitas's brain zeroes in on the word 'our', all of his attention pulled from the forgotten memory on the wall. There would be enough time to ask about it, granted the memory accompanying it wouldn't return. Nevertheless, the pressing matter remains. He gulped, his throat suddenly dry. 

"Our?... do we sleep together?" _In the same bed?_

Ventus licks his lips and nods. He settled himself against the counter of their kitchen, his fingers reaching over a box of tea. He takes the tea bag out of the packet and sets it to steep in a mug filled with hot water. "Yeah… we share it. Don't worry about it too much, I know it will be too uncomfortable for you."

The sigh of relief probably shouldn't have sounded _so_ loud and _too relieved_ . It was as if he had been taken captive and brought here against his will, from the way he let out his breath like that. But Vanitas couldn't hide it. The thought of sharing a bed with Ventus, regardless of how he looked and acted, it still felt _wrong._ There's no part of his mind that didn't remember the overbearing version of him that's fresh from his memory. 

He breaks away from his thoughts and lays his eyes on Ventus's broken smile. His deep blue eyes duller than usual, his face fell to a despondent sigh. He gripped over the edge of the counter and took a deep shuddering breath. The sudden eerie quiet made the guilt in Vanitas steep like the tea in Ventus's shaking hands. 

It dawned on him. What he did, how he reacted, was simply the opposite of what he should've been doing, which was to be 'nice'. 'Sighing in relief' when he's been let off the hook in sharing their bed is definitely _not_ being nice.

"Shit. Ventus, I didn't mean it like that!" Vanitas walks closer to the kitchen. Briefly, he considers about how his present—...er _future?—_ what would _Present/Future Vanitas_ have said or done to fix his idiotic mistake?

"I… I… it. Shit, I'm sorry, I can't really… remember us being like that and right now all I can think about is that I can't really stand you."

_Fuck. Present/Future Vanitas would kill teenage Vanitas that's for sure. Strip my skin off and burn me to a crisp for making his Ventus sad._

"I… mean… I can't not… not stand? I can not stand—I can't not not stand—"

_You're a dick, teenage Vanitas. Shut it._

Perhaps he should have stopped at the sigh. Perhaps he should have glued his mouth shut until Present/Future Vanitas got back here and claimed his rightful place in time, because Teenage Vanitas is ruining it. Ventus didn't respond, didn't cry or react, he only turned away and sighed to himself. Vanitas feels a burning sensation spread from his chest to his stomach and up his throat, he wanted to throw up. He messed up so badly, perhaps this is Present/Future Vanitas's way of kicking his ass for forgetting to turn his brain on. 

In the midst of the awkwardness, Ventus laughed. No mirth or lightness flowed out his puffs of air. It was forced. Strained, as he smiled his closed lip smile, trying his best to show that it didn't bother him.

"It's alright. Don't worry about it. You must be tired, you can take the bed." He forced another fake chuckle. "I'll take the couch."

Vanitas didn't know what to do, but at the risk of saying anything more upsetting, he nodded and quietly (dejectedly) waddled his way towards the comforts of the bedroom. He knew it was going to be hard to settle into things, that he'd have to pretend to live with a person he used to avoid like a plague. But he honestly thought he was much better at being a person than this. It was like all he's done, from the moment he woke up, was hurt Ventus. 

The worst part of it, he can't really say he's broken up about it. It was just… _weird_. The feeling of looking at someone, that was told to mean the world to him, and feeling absolutely nothing. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

To his side, he glimpsed at Ventus hunched over the counter, his hand clasped around the warm ceramic mug, his shoulders shook with every heave. Vanitas walked away and pretended not to hear the small stifled sobs as he closed the door and settled into their bed alone. 

  
  
  
  


Vanitas woke up in dread. He'd dreamt of nothing, or if he did manage to conjure up some image in his kind, his body had developed a mechanism to reject its recollection. He had hoped that at some point, his memories would come back; cliche as it was to seek it in the world of sleep, it's what he's learned from pop-culture and pointless science fiction flicks. He doesn't remember ever finding love for films, but he does remember having seen some. Another magical effect of his 5-year hole. _Fantastic._ He could've remembered anything useful, but nope, it was these pointless movies. 

"Vanitas, are you awake?" The call came with a knock. He stared at the white door, contemplating on opening his mouth or silently resigning himself to written communication. He'd open his mouth last night and Ventus ended up sobbing at the counter. 

_Talk, dumbass._

"Y-yeah?" He called out, weak and hoarse. "I'm up."

Ventus opened the door and turned right around to leave it open. A second later he was bringing in a bed tray filled with food, mug of coffee and a medical kit. He sets it on the bed with a warm smile, and stared warily at the space beside Vanitas. Vanitas made some space for him and Ventus sat himself down, albeit taking very little of the space that he was given. He bit his lower lip and took a shaky breath.

If Vanitas didn't know any better, it's as if Ventus was the one that figured into an accident. He was too careful, too soft and too forgiving with the way he handles him. Does he think him weak, fragile and unable to sustain injury after one damn car crash?

"Ventus."

"I can change your bandages after I clean and wash your wounds." Ventus finally says, he blushed a faint red at the announcement; and, not meeting Vanitas's surprised stare, he puts the tray over Vanitas's lap, and scampers away.

"E-eat up…. while I get the tub ready!" 

_Was Ventus always this smothering… Did he just order_ **_me_ ** _around?_ Vanitas blinks at the direction Ventus disappeared to. 

The Ventus he remembered was an attention seeking brat. He always hung around the group of students that asked for his advice and filled his head with praises. Vanitas couldn't care less, as long as he kept to himself. But of course, being the social butterfly that he was, he just had to saunter over to Vanitas a wide welcoming smile on his face and an unreasonably cheery greeting. Vanitas remembered exactly what he'd done: turned away and sank back into the book in his hand. He didn't see Ventus's reaction that day, but he had frequented his place every day after, to Vanitas's chagrin.

He never expected to be… _coddled_ in this way. The food he cooked was simple, eggs and some toast, there was his usual black coffee on the tray, the heat just enough to be drunk without scalding his tongue. Ventus must have done this a thousand times, Vanitas thinks, how much time had they spent together… How long have they spent their mornings like this? Hopefully, it's a two-way streak.

Vanitas takes the tray and plates out to the kitchen, setting then over the sink and letting the water drip over them. He supposed he would clean it after his bloodied bandages had been replaced. The wounds it covered were starting to itch as well, he had delayed the 'bath' situation long enough, Ventus might take it as another attack and Vanitas would have ended up causing him more pain, and again, detracting from the one instruction that was told to him. 

He takes a deep breath and goes to the bathroom connected to their bedroom. Ventus sat on the cold titles, his pale legs folded under him, his oversized shirt had their sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hand waded into the tub and tested for the temperature. Vanitas was stuck wherever he stood: the sight of Ventus beneath him, white tiles, red cheeks and the sweetest sound of moaning entered his thoughts, flashing like a five second movie only for him to see. 

_Wha… what was that, a memory?!_ There was no use working that thought out now, Ventus was calling him, he's already in thin ice as it is. He'd have a longer time figuring that memory out, with Ventus far, far away from him. 

"Come here," Ventus was still pink, he gestured for Vanitas to remove his shirt and get in the tub. "It's uncomfortable… I mean… tell me if… it's uncomfortable, okay?" 

He nodded. "Okay."

Vanitas had probably forgotten the last time he was drawn a bath. Probably the five year gap has it, but from then memories that he has, this is the only adult drawn bath he's willingly had. He didn't have a choice, as it seemed. Ventus had his determined look over his red face, his eyes trained over the mess of black and blood over Vanitas's head. Vanitas notices and takes the initiative to unwrap his head wound himself. Ventus's eyes panicked as he gingerly swats Vanitas's hand away, and takes over the act. He followed through until Vanitas was bare except for his boxers. He softly reached for his hand, barely there as he led the taller of them into the bath. 

"... how… is it?"

"It's nice." Vanitas answered, blunt and honest. "Thank you." 

Ventus nodded, happy. He worked his way around the wounds, washed the dried up blood and stitches, gently massaging the black and blue bruises that patterned around Vanitas's back and sides. Vanitas heard a soft sniffle, the moment Ventus reached for soap to clean the open wounds with. Vanitas bit the insides of his cheek, the soap stung and they felt like his entire back had been burning. He pushed through and waited for the warm water to wash the ache away. Ventus unplugged the tub and the pink stained water drained. 

He shuddered as he carefully traced the stitched up wound with a towel, drying the places where the antiseptic would be spread and the bandages applied. He sprayed the largest wound on his back.

Vanitas let out a harsh hiss, the stinging and burning was back and had grown two-fold. He bites his lip to quiet his gasps and sees, in his peripheral, Ventus's hands shake, his deep blue eyes glassy with threat of tears. 

"Hey. _Hey_..." Vanitas said in an instinctive response. "I'm fine." 

He stifled the harsh gasps and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Though his mouth sounded the words, his voice, confident and assured, but anyone that saw him would have guessed his blatant lie. 

"No. You're not!" Ventus pressed his lips to a line, he shook his head as panicked shouts echoed around the white walls. "You're not… you're not fine! You…. You don't…—" 

_Why… are you so broken by this?_

_Why are you in so much pain?_

Vanitas shifts his position, pressing his back to the edge of the tub, ignoring the shearing pressure on his back. Without thinking, netakes Ventus's smaller hand in his and squeezed.

"... _Ventus_ , look at me." He gripped tighter, making sure those blue eyes met his golden ones. "I'm okay, _see_ … I'm right here." 

Ventus nods, his teary eyes never broke away from those golden ones. He sniffed and hiccupped, all the world had spun around him. The sound of the call, the indescribable words that wrought panic and fear to shoot in every single part of his being, everywhere and all at once. All that filled him was dread, _dread_ , dread and misery. The misery of being left, the agony of inability, the unbearable loss of someone so important to him, it surrounded him and held him frozen.

"Tell me about us." Vanitas's tone was more of an order than anything else. "Tell me, Ventus. Tell me something, _anything._ How did we move in here?” 

"H-huh… we… we… dated… through college." Ventus gasps between his unsteady breaths,"we… moved here. We got this place… you, you did. We… used to fight over the kind of music we'd play. You always… you loved rock and alternative music, but you took me to an orchestral performance and then asked me to move in with you." 

_That's it._ Vanitas hummed, easing him to continue on. The small bits and pieces of how they were flies over his head. The tiny fights, the little mundane favorites and dates, they were expendable information in the face of a panic-attack Vanitas didn't know how to solve. The only thing of importance was that Ventus calms down. 

Ventus takes a deep breath and huffs it all out. He shook his head in response, silently telling Vanitas that he needn't answer. He was fine, the panic that gripped him had gone. _For now._

"Thank you." He said softly, tone drenched in guilt and self-loathing. "I'm sorry… you're the one that got into that accident… and yet, I'm the one you had to help out. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing." Vanitas moved back to the center of the tub, allowing Ventus to finish what he started. “I’m not okay, I won’t lie to you, but stop saying sorry for something you can’t control. It’s annoying.”

"Sor—...okay." Ventus managed to cut himself off, his lips pursed to a pout, his blue eyes still murky with unshed tears. "I'll stop." 

For the second time since he woke up, Vanitas called Ventus 'cute'. 

  
  
  
  
  


"... Hey." Vanitas starts, his voice unsteady with doubt. The worry of saying the wrong thing crossed his mind. "I'm sorry. For… everything."

They've moved from the bathroom to the bedroom adjacent. Vanitas was back to bed and Ventus had been fussing about and around him, securing bandages and making sure that his injuries held properly. He presses a finger to his lips, his brows furrowed together in thought. "You have to be more specific than that, Vanitas." 

_And there's the know-it-all I recognize. Welcome back, Ventus._

Somehow the statement made him feel lighter, the short recognition that he wasn't beyond wrong about Ventus made him ease up. He knew he couldn't have changed that much. He pulled the hesitation away from his mind and focused on Ventus's gentle and patient expression. 

"I'd like to think it was obvious." His tone dripped with heavy sarcasm and a tinge of annoyance. It was supposed to be a joke, a response to the witty remark he'd gotten, but apparently it seemed that Present/Future Vanitas doesn't do sarcasm anymore, from the look that reflected on Ventus's face, he could tell he fucked up again. 

Ventus was quick to cover the frown with a fake laugh. He licked his lips and slowly scooted away from the bed, ready to exit the room after his apology. "Sorry… that was stupid of me, I'll…"

It hurt to hear that laugh, the hollow sound it makes only hammers guilt over him. None of this is working out. They can't even hold a conversation long enough without either of them getting offended or pissed. It was becoming a feat to imagine that they may have been intimate at one point. All of these awkwardness, clipped answers and apologetic sad glances… _they have to fucking stop_. 

He sighs, tired and frustrated, before clamping down on Ventus's wrist. 

"Stop that." He muttered, his hand firmly locking Ventus in place. "Stop being so nervous around me." 

_If there's anyone that's been fucking up, it's me._

Ventus lowered his head, his gaze still directed over the hand over his own. "I'm not nervous." 

He sounded distant. His eyes always looked sad whenever Vanitas would look into them. It was unsettling, the way a frown had taken over the usual sunny smile Ventus carried. He may not have been a fan of the exuberance the blonde had, but he can't deny that a smile is what fits him best. He held off on words, on the growing urge to yank the truth from those pink pouty lips. It was obvious that Ventus had clammed up, there was no way he was going to explain his answer. 

"Then… can you at least take my apology?" Vanitas circled back to their original conversation. He chuckled at the wide-eyed shock on Ventus. "I'll be specific. I'm sorry for making you worry."

_I'm sorry that I forgot all about you._

"The attack you had, it was because of me, wasn't it?" 

On a normal day, back in his first year of college, Vanitas would have said that it was egotistic of him to say that. A panic attack can be caused by a lot of factors and other scientifically sound reasons. It didn't have to be him that caused it, but when Ventus looked up at him, he knew he was on point.

"...Yeah, I guess it was." He sighed and sat fully on the bed. He pulled his hand from Vanitas and rested both of them over his chest. "I was so worried when Naminé called me. I was in the middle of classes, and I think I missed two of her calls. When I heard you got into an accident I… blanked out. I guess… I still remember it, feeling helpless and unable to do anything." 

Vanitas watched him pull his legs to his chest, his somber expression pressed to his knees. Ventus was within arms reach but all he did was stare. He wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it wasn't his place to feel helpless, that Ventus was here and all of that stuff didn't matter anymore. 

"I was so scared." Ventus whispered. "I thought… I thought I lost you." 

Deep blue eyes were staring at him, all the fear and frustration beneath them bubbled up on the surface. Ventus's expressions, his true feelings were always given away by them, it was how he figured him out, how the obnoxious facade drove him up the wall because all of it was a crafted lie. Ventus takes another broken breath and smiles meekly at him. 

"In a way… I guess… I sort of did." 

The memory loss. The 5 year hole that robbed Vanitas of his life. Those five long years that Vanitas had been trying hard to piece together, he didn't know someone else depended so much on his recollection of his memories. He was too selfish, thinking only above the murkiness of his thoughts, the haze that covered his memories, when Ventus must've felt so much worse. It wasn't a haze for him, it wasn't uncertainty, he was sure. The Vanitas that came back from the accident was not _his_ Vanitas. 

He faked another laugh, empty and devoid of any other emotion. He sounded so completely broken, so devastated that even his fake laugh sounded like sobs. 

Vanitas decided that he hated this kind of laugh the most, it's worse than Ventus's attention grabbing guffaw that rang around the classroom. The latter, didn't make his chest hurt, or squeeze on his insides, it didn't make him want to care about Ventus. Not like the hollow laugh that had him reaching out to pet the mess of blonde hair before him. 

_Shit. Why did I do that?_

Taken aback, Ventus lifts his head and turns his questioning gaze to him. "... sorry, I know you're… here, I know that… but it just feels like you never came home." 

What was that played on his chest, what was that danced around with knives over his heart. The words stung, he was trying, wasn't he? He wanted to remember, he didn't want to walk around with a fucking memory hole in his head. Why is Ventus acting like he _wanted_ to forget? He didn't like this any more than he did, so why… is he making him feel that everything was his fault?

Ventus saw the shift in Vanitas's face, the way his brows drew together in quiet rage. He was in the same position, they were both hurt by this and neither of them came out better than the other. 

He forced his face to a smile. "Vanitas… can I give you a hug?" 

“Sure, you can.” He was answering before he could think the question over. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind was his aversion to human touch, it was still there, Vanitas was not one for physical touch, in fact he recoiled at the thought of it. Yet, after what he’d witnessed Ventus go through in that morning. He couldn’t refuse him of it. The blanks of his memories haven't been filled, just short pictures of lost memories without context. It wasn’t at all helpful, but he was hopeful that he’d eventually trace them down. Meanwhile, before he could do much of his healing, he needed to consider how it would be to deal with Ventus. He can’t really say how they were in their relationship, but at the very least Vanitas could wrap his head around being ‘friends’. 

Ventus crawled forward, lifting his arms up and slipping them over his waist, the hug was awkward, at first, barely a feather over his skin. Vanitas breathed into the embrace, absently petting the blonde’s head. Ventus gave in and pressed closer, burying his face to the crook of his neck, he sobs and clutches tightly over Vanitas’s bunched up shirt in his hands. Vanitas kept his quiet, his hand the only comfort that he was still there. He let him cry over his shirt, his warm tears caught in his shirt, he pulled him closer, as if to imprint in him that he didn’t really lose him. Vanitas adjusts himself enough for him to lean his back on the headboard, while Ventus still laid over him, convulsing over his chest. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, soft and sincere. 

Sorrowful blue eyes stared up at him in tears, his cheeks dusted with pink. He shook his head and managed to pull away. He shuddered before plastering a fake smile on his lips. 

The same hollow one that Vanitas has begun to hate.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanitas goes back to work, finding pieces of himself along the way and some memories better off forgotten.

It was Vanitas's first day back on the job, the accident bought him three days of bedrest that he never actually used. The thought of coming to work, ignorant about the run of things is not something that sits well with him. He rummaged around the flat for his old books, but came up empty; he thought about contacting the _other resident_ of the flat to ask, but he ended up staring at the screen for hours and forgetting what he pulled his mobile for. Needless to say, his nerves were shot, his mind was going on deliberate overdrive, and still, he couldn't remember a single thing about his job. 

He groaned and walked out of the bedroom, his face drawn to a frustrated scowl. He hated nothing more than seeking 'guidance' for something he should have mastered in his two years in law school. It's a fucking hit on his pride, especially if that 'guidance' is to come from someone like 'Riku'. 

"Here." Ventus hands him a mug of coffee. Vanitas didn't have time to refuse, his instincts took over and swiped the offered mug. "Good morning, sleepyhead, had a good rest?" 

Vanitas stares at the mug and takes a sip of its heavenly caffeine content. The warmth of the liquid spreads through him like wildfire, the chill of the morning was gone in an instant. He gave his small thanks and rubbed his eye from the wake of sleep, the first thing he noticed was the color of their mugs: his was a white rabbit theme, while in Ventus's hand was a black raven theme. Something tells him that perhaps his original cup was the one Ventus was using. He takes another sip of coffee, a little happier than a second ago. 

"I don't usually sleep that long, do I?" He follows Ventus into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. 

"If I had my way, you'd still be in bed." Ventus said sternly, sipping on his mug. It took it's second for the innuendoes to flash across his mind, his cheeks burned at the thought. "S-so that you could… rest properly! Yeah! I mean… you need the rest!"

He hightailed out of Vanitas's sight and rushed to the nearest source of cold air: the fridge. He wasn't even that hungry, but his cheeks were flushed and he needed to get them to settle into a temperature that won't possibly scream his possible _suggestive_ thoughts. 

It takes a pair of golden eyes digging into his back to realize he can't stick his face into the fridge without looking like a psycho. Ventus decided he'd make breakfast. He was breaking eggs to a bowl and grating some cheese into it, seasoning it with salt and pepper, and then proceeded to struggle with the gas stove that won't quite ignite. Vanitas presses his lips to a line, holding in his amusement at the sight of furrowed brows and a dissatisfied pout. 

_One…_

_Two…_

_And three._

"Why does this stove hate me!" He whines and catches Vanitas's half-smile directed at him, those golden eyes filled with unspeakable mischief. While his own eyes pleaded for help, fingers still experimenting with the rebeling stove knob. 

Vanitas sets his empty cup on the sink and lightly elbows Ventus to move aside. He turns the knobs and hears the usual 'clicking' sound, but no fire comes out. On his side, he hears Ventus rant about getting the induction model or anything but this godforsaken grandfather gas appliance. Vanitas ignored the comment and discovered that the gas line had been shut off. He flicks the switch on and lights the stove with relative ease.

"You left the gas off, idiot." He says with a smirk.

Ventus stared at the pan over flames, his head tilted and his mouth rounded with a soft 'oh'. He turns to Vanitas and grabs his forearm, already on his tiptoes, bringing his face closer to peck a grateful kiss on his boyfriend's cheek. When Vanitas moved away, wide-eyed and a picture of absolute horror. 

"Oh my god, I'm sorry!" Ventus says, unmoving. "I'm sorry! It was… it was… for a moment there, I thought you were _my_ Vanitas…" 

_Your Vanitas?_ _What in the fucking hell am I, then?_

_Shut up. You know what he meant._

Vanitas waved his hand dismissively. "It's fine, me and… _your_ Vanitas do look alike, after all." He says with a noncommittal shrug. 

Perhaps this is how Ventus was dealing with his memory loss; how he planned to shield himself from the stupid things Teenaged Vanitas says and does. He'd just split them into two persons: Ventus's Vanitas, the nice Vanitas; and the one that made him cry before going to sleep last night. _Terrific, good plan, great plan-_ -Vanitas hated the plan. He hated it, it was irrational. He hated it because why would Ventus talk about some _other_ Vanitas, when he's the only Vanitas in the room! It was unnerving, and loathe though he may, as absurd as it can be, he still understood where Ventus was coming from. 

Ventus smiled, playing along. "Yeah. The similarities are uncanny, you had me fooled." 

They shared a small look, a nameless in between of an apology and longing. It was a reprieve from the disastrous yesterday, where Ventus would only show himself to bring him food and his medication, silent as death when he leaves. The awkward air has at least, if not disappeared, dissipated between them. He takes over the cooking, learning along the way, through passion g glimpses of memories, that he has the entire kitchen engraved in his head. The memories of cooking, spending most of their free time dirtying the place and creating new _unbelievable_ recipes, and shooing Ventus away became clear in his head. Although there's a plethora of events that flashed through his head, the stand out being 'shooing Ventus away' from their kitchen. 

He flips the eggs and places them on a ceramic plate. He shook his head at the recent memory of Ventus throwing a short tantrum, ready to fight the stove. It still made him smirk as he set the plate down in front of him. 

"I'm better than you at this, huh?" He takes the seat across from him. "Cooking." 

Ventus chuckled. "Yeah, you're the kitchen master around here, or so you like to say." 

_Kitchen… Master? What the fuck, Present/Future Vanitas, what the fuck is that, were you high?!_

"I didn't really…. Go around, saying that, right?" 

Ventus snorts. "Only when you want me to get out of the kitchen." 

Half of Vanitas wanted to bang his hand on the table, and the other half wanted to whine in despair at how lame he got. Wasn't he supposed to be cool by now? What the heck was he thinking, 'Kitchen Master' sounded awful, it sounded so bad that even Ventus pokes fun at it. 

_You're not allowed here until you're a master, got that?_

_"What? Vanitas, you can't be serious! Stop making stuff up, what do you mean about being a 'master'?!"_

_A master is one that won't burn the entire building down!_

_"But I wasn't planning to! This was just… an accident!" He was laughing his bubbly laugh._

_I leave you for an hour, Ventus! An hour! I came back to a pot of pasta on fire and you… fucking trying to put it out with olive oil._

_"How was I supposed to know! You said that I'd wait for the pasta to get cooked and then add olive oil, I thought it was just cooking…"_

_Vanitas slammed a hand to his face so hard his eye socket ached. He is never going to let Ventus near any kitchen at all._

  
Vanitas cradled his head, his fingers digging deeper into his scalp. The memory was short, but flashed too vividly in mind. He could hear his own frustration, Ventus's teasing tone and he could smell the burnt scent of the pasta that wasn't there. He squeezed his eyes shut and the blaring static sounds burst over his ears. Then, just as easily as it came, the sensation was gone. Ventus stood beside him, hand suspended in air, afraid to touch him. His lips were set to a frown again and his eyes had reflected worry. 

"I'm alright, Ventus. Go back to eating." He waves him away. It was his first _real_ memory, his first actual sign of progress; Naminé was right, he was bound to get them back, all he needed was to talk about things. He needed triggers, especially about the core memories of who came to be at 23. He just hoped that not all of his memories returning would mean a gigantic headache drilling at him. 

Ventus edged back to his seat and finished eating his breakfast. He sat quietly, his fork scraping at the leftovers on his dish. He peeks at Vanitas, who was peeking right back at him. Whatever they were both mulling over, it seemed that it had made both of them shy and uneasy.

"Ventus?" The blonde perks up at the sound of his name. "How did we… get together?" 

_That's okay to ask, right?_

_Happy couples like to talk about this kind of shit, right… fuck, are we a happy couple?_

He expected Ventus to jump at the chance to elaborate how massively 'cute' and 'whipped' he is, and how they have this amazingly wonderful relationship that every single one of their friends apparently knew. Naminé was the first one to say, and Naminé wasn't a person that liked to.mince words with him. He didn't need to meet others to ask about it, Naminé was enough witness for the truth. Even without her, the proof was on every fucking picture frame around their flat. It was there, staring at him in the face, his dumb brain just forgot all about it and it sucks…. It sucks to be in a situation he can't even say decidedly is the 'worst', because something _else_ might have happened and he's just forgotten. 

He wanted to remember too! So can Ventus stop looking at him like he purposely had gone out and got amnesia from a fucking grocery?

Ventus takes a deep breath, his hands curled to a fist by his lips. His brows knit together, seriously considering the posed question. He laughs bitterly and looks at him with a wry smile, "you asked me out." 

" _I_ did?" His voice sounded more incredulous than he wanted, immediately Ventus shifted his sights to his lap.

_One of these days, Future/Present Vanitas is going to kick my ass._

The change in Ventus was indelible, the lightness that breakfast brought them was simply gone after a few words. What was it that Ventus knew about them that caged him in bitterness; Weren't they happy, wasn't Vanitas a _good boyfriend;_ Are these questions relatively 'okay' to ask, or would he cause him another panic attack? 

"When did we start dating?" He chose to stick to hard facts, nothing as murky as feelings or who 'fell' first. Just facts, dates and perhaps he could trace it from there. 

Ventus kept his gaze down. "Within half a year, in our second year in College…"

_Just barely there, it's like my memory purposely cut you out._

"I was 19 then." Vanitas ponders. He still couldn't wrap his head around it, he thinks he's 18, just one year away from eventually falling in love with Ventus. Yet, he couldn't imagine it. All he could see was Ventus's smartass comments when he does his practical exams, or how he openly compared how he's at the top of the class while Vanitas takes fifth rank. He was obnoxious and a person Vanitas doesn't really… _like._

"Mhm." Ventus sighed. He wasn't going to engage in the conversation, it was his limit. Vanitas had wanted to ask more, pry open the look that told him there was more to the answer than he let on, but he supposes he could save it for another time. He needed to be a better friend to Ventus, they might be boyfriends at this time, but Teenaged Vanitas has a long way to go before he could even be considered as Ventus's friend.

"I… I have to go to work." Ventus announced, putting down the fork in the plate and setting his used black mug over it. Eager for an escape, he takes his dirty dishes and puts them over the sink and pre-washes them before he shoves them inside the dishwasher. 

Absently, Vanitas had followed him back into the kitchen, at the urging of a small voice inside his head. There were many blanks in mind, what were the chances that all of the blanks would have one answer? 

"I left my mobile number on the fridge, I also wrote out the school's number. Call me, if you need anything. I… asked Sora to help you figure things out, with the commute and all. He should be here soon." 

"Sora?" The memory of wide grins, messy brown hair and darker blue eyes conjured in his mind. He remembered 'Sora', the bare basics of who he was, the party he threw, the last memory he had before waking up in a hospital bed. 

"Yeah, you guys work together." Ventus finished playing dishwasher tetris and wiped his hands dry with the washcloth.

Ventus looks at him with those kicked puppy eyes, the ones that made him agree to some form of human contact yesterday, and lowered his head again. If Vanitas knew him better, he would have said that he was hiding something, instead of looking back completely baffled. Vanitas wouldn't even meet his eyes, and after a couple of odd seconds Ventus starts to fidget with his fingers. 

"I… uhm… I usually have the habit of kissing you goodbye before I leave for work." He said in a small voice. He seemed a lot smaller than Vanitas remembered, a lot more vulnerable than his memories played him out to be. "It's just a habit--"

"Uh… listen, I'm not… I don't think I'm really comfortable about that. I don't want things between us to become awkward, and right now, I see us—" He couldn't voice out the words he wanted to say, the phrase _'as friends'_ died on his throat. 

Ventus had picked up his belongings and with a hollow smile he cut him off.

"You hate me." He chuckles bitterly. "It's okay, Vanitas. Unlike you, I have all my memories."

"I don't! I don't hate you." _I find you annoying, yeah… but I won't say 'hate'!_

Vanitas rubbed at his temple, wondering how Ventus ended with that kind of thought. He had only wanted to save them from an awkward situation. He could give him a hug, or comfort when he needed, but even those short moments felt out of body for him. He's not opposed to trying, but there's just something a lot more intimate with a kiss that Vanitas can't overlook. It would be wrong to kiss him, it would be unfair to Ventus, if he does. He's only slowly getting his bearings back, he doesn't need a kiss to rattle him back to zero. 

_There's no need to rush into things._

"Hmm." Ventus brushed him and headed for the door. "Anyway, I already called and got your car scheduled for repairs. I went ahead and asked Naminé to remind you of your check up after work, and… I'll probably be home late… please ask Sora and… _Sora_ to help you get back home, the night commute is different from the morning route and it's just…it would be reassuring for me to know someone's with you." His voice sounded strained, as his mind wavered before deciding to pin down on only mentioning Sora. 

_Why only Sora… he mentioned them before… didn't he, Sora and…_

"They live five floors up, right. Sora and…" he waited, following Ventus's receding form towards the entrance of their flat. 

Ventus was tying his shoelaces on his shoes and fixing a scarf and coat over himself that he hung on the clothes rack by the door. He gets up and slung his shoulder bag on. 

"Roxas." He finally said, his tone sounding off and wrong, like he felt a certain dark rage within him for the named person. 

"Do you remember him?" The question was alarmingly accusatory, but Vanitas lets it slide. Ventus was at the door, he had a feeling that if he opened up the issue with 'Roxas' neither of them would be leaving for work any time soon. 

Immediately, Vanitas wanted to bury his head and hide, he seemed to be pretty good at hitting Ventus's buttons and not the good kind. Without any memories as basis, all Vanitas had to go on was the animosity that left his tongue; that name… _Roxas,_ there was something there, something foreboding, _important,_ something he definitely _cannot_ ask Ventus. Something he'd have to ask the person that would preferably come by their flat on time, _after_ Ventus left. 

"Okay." Vanitas responded, as if he's quelling the sparks to a fight. "Look, you’re one foot out that door, and this… whatever shit this is about that Roxas guy, It's either you stay and talk or we just forget I ever mentioned him."

"I don't want a fight, Ventus."

"I'm not the one starting them!" He yells out, uncharacteristic, his face set to a hard glare. 

Vanitas slammed his fist to the wall, the rage inside him shattering whatever calm he still had. "Dammit, Ventus! I'm trying to make sense of this shit! _I'm trying!_ You think I like not knowing who I am?"

"No… but did you ever think about me; How a part of me died when you lost those five years?!" He retaliates, standing his ground.

Vanitas simmers, his fist still pressed to the wall, the dull ache reverberates over his arm. But nothing was more painful than the words Ventus hammered his entire being with. "I already lost to you, okay? Can we just… stop fighting?"

"Shit." Ventus scoffed and bit his lip, he inhaled sharply and ran his hand through his hair.. "God… You… you sounded so much like _him_ right now." He lingered by the door, hand on the latch. "You sounded like _my Vanitas."_

All Vanitas could hear is that gentle tone he used in saying 'My Vanitas'; he said it with indescribable fondness, so much withheld affection that he only allows himself to feel when he talks about _his_ Vanitas. As though he's different from the one in front of him. Different from the one that he yelled at. Even though Vanitas was the one that joked about it, all he wanted to say was ' _we're the same_ '. It was like he was uninvited and unwelcome in his own home, like he was a stranger intruding and ruining the perfect life of Ventus and _that_ Vanitas. 

"... I'll see you when I get home?" 

Ventus gave him one last look, one that stared directly into his soul, one that begged for him to understand without words what he wanted to say; but, when Vanitas only responded with a raised brow and a confused gawk. Ventus shook his head and exited without any other word, looking far more defeated than usual. 

"Yeah. I'll be here…"

  
  
  
  
  
  


How exactly does the mind work, how does it trace out patterns for recall, because Vanitas's mind was an absolute joke at it. In an effort to regain some memories, he had opted to browse through his phone for some old messages or flip through albums they had, but as he was about to commandeer his great plan he realized that he couldn't check his phone because the crash completely crushed it, and forget photo albums because he didn't feel like pulling through mountains of photo albums they kept. Completely set in giving up, Vanitas sat on their living room couch and waited for Sora to come and get him. 

And then, the memories of sitting in an auditorium-style classroom came. Around him were faces he knew, among them were Sora, another blonde that he could mistake as Ventus, and Riku. The faces of his friends came, and the memory of furiously typing up notes, answering exams and getting his second in rank medal during graduation flowed in him like a breeze. No headaches, no weird static noise, just a brain cell flex… because _holy fuck! I graduated second in my class?!_

Vanitas barely heard the doorbell ringing. He nearly fell to the floor, his face all confused and distant. He opened the door and the familiar ocean blue eyes and brunet hair greets him with his infamous cheeky grin.

"And we have reached the fated day, the day you actually need my help." Sora grins, his darker blue eyes filled with curiosity. "How've you been, Vanitas, still think you're eighteen?" 

He rolled his eyes, somehow the familiarity of Sora's tone a welcoming comfort. "Yeah, yeah. Stay here I'll get my… what exactly do I get, do I bring anything?" 

"Man, you freaking hit your head hard, huh? Most of your things are in the bullpen, I think Roxas took over your stuff, he shares it with Ienzo. But I think you do carry around a shoulder bag, like that." Sora nods towards the exit, the said bag hung at the hooks by the exit. Vanitas raised a brow and walked over to him, his amicable aura exuding enough that Vanitas only grunted in response and followed him out, taking his set of keys and locking the flat. 

He's used to Sora's zealous approach over mundane things, like walking to work or taking the city tram. The boy was the manifestation of summer and seeing him, at 23 and still shining that same warm glow, Vanitas had never known a comfort as welcoming as his 'sunny' disposition. Vanitas didn't mind Sora's infectious good mood, in fact, he's a little thankful for it. It's 10AM and they're technically running late for work, but at least Sora was late with him.

"So you don't remember the parties we threw? Oh man, do you even remember how we met?" 

Like clockwork, the mention of the question and sound of Sora's voice drove his mind in retracing his memories of Sora. He stopped in his tracks, when the memory flashed in his head. Suddenly, he's caught in a daze and what broke through it was Sora being unceremoniously pushed forward on the first day of orientation seminar and unwillingly dubbed as the class representative. Sora had awkwardly scratched his cheek with his finger before agreeing. They met a little ways off, when Sora stumbled upon him and his personal area at the roof deck of their lecture hall. Tired dark blue eyes stared at him, his lips stretched to a cheeky grin and his hand out:

_"Can I bum one?"_

_Vanitas blinked his shock away and handed him his pack. Sora took them and easily lit up a stick. It was the start of a very weird friendship sparked by a shared smoking area._

"Of course I remember, those parties sucked that bad, you only threw them cause people wanted Student Government sanctioned booze and weed." 

"You say it like you didn't come to them." Sora snorts. "Don't high-brow me, we practically threw them together. You were an honorary member of the Student Gov--oh, hey! You remembered!" 

"Free cigs would have been more fun." Vanitas returns his mischievous grin. "Oh. It's not like I could forget, you lazy son of a bitch, how many packs do you owe me now?" 

" _Ugh… Vanitas_!" He whined and grumbled. "Why did you have to remember that?"

They laughed, blissful and carefree. It was a real laugh, where Vanitas didn't feel like any of his actions needed to be restrained. He didn't notice how clipped his actions and words were until that morning commute with Sora. The impeccable ease of retracing the memories of him. Remembering Sora wasn't as pressuring as it was with Ventus, at least Sora didn't give a shit about his memory loss. It was easier to trigger recall with the stories he's told, their entire commute going to the firm had Vanitas considering that perhaps the clearest one in his memory for both, his teenage self and his 23 year old self, is that they both remember Sora. 

Then again, everyone knows Sora and the hard fact that he never changes. He may grow in both muscle and height, but his charm remains the same. Vanitas had once described him as being a charismatic idiot. Keyword being 'idiot', and still holding true to today. At the back of his mind, he remembers blurred faces nodding in agreement. 

"You're gonna pay for the tram today." Vanitas taps Sora's shoulder and steps into the Tram that passed at their stop. "You can pay for the entire week and you're still indebted to me, Leonhart." 

Sora groaned loudly and pouted, he stuck his hands to his slacks' pocket. He counted the change he had and rolled his eyes. He has enough, but gods help him if Vanitas remembers anything else he 'borrowed'. 

"C'mon, Fair, that's not exactly ' _fair'_ of you." Sora says with a half-smile, easily calling out Vanitas's taunt. He takes the space beside Vanitas and grins at him. "You know, I'll never get tired of that joke."

Vanitas clicked his tongue, his head to the window. "5 years later and your humor still sucks."

"I'm just glad I could still use it." Sora holds out a fist, his face cheeky with anticipation. He sees Vanitas glance at his fist, roll his eyes and with a light scoff, bumps it with his own. 

Vanitas averts his eyes back to the window, his hand reached up to cover the smile that played on his lips. He was thankful to Sora, the way he acted like he was normal, as if he didn't have a memory gap, or survived a harrowing accident. Vanitas was just his friend, his co-worker, and if that's Sora's way of saying that he was relieved he didn't die from the accident, Vanitas could use another Sora. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


He got into the building lobby, punched in his ID on the automated turnstile. It impressed him how easy it was to slip into his muscle memory, when surrounded by familiar factors, faces and less pressure. 

Sora had been updating him on the latest development of the cases he knew Vanitas was handling, because apparently Roxas brings work back 'home'. The name rang around his head, it was a name that almost started a fight back at the flat, a name Sora has been casually mentioning in every other sentence. Vanitas was starting to think it was bait, or Sora's obliviously fixated on Roxas. 

_I'll ask him later._

Sora showed him to his cubicle at the bullpen. He sat down on his desk and noticed how tidy, neat and fixed everything was, there were some piles of outgoing work to one side, and the other side, some tiny notes with girly handwriting wishing him a safe recovery. Sora cackled at the sight of the 'Get Well Soon' shrine covering at least a quarter of his desk. 

"I forgot to say." Sora hits his head playfully. "You kinda have a following here, you know, being second in rank." 

"C'mon Sora, he’ll find out eventually. Those came from your adoring fans, golden boy." 

The voice was much, much more familiar than Vanitas expected. It tugged on his head and heart, the voice seemed _too familiar_ but at the same time, sounded a register lower than usual. Vanitas turned to where the comment came from and saw _Ventus_ with a haughty smirk. 

… _Ventus?_

"You really are indestructible, huh?" 

Sora slumped his shoulders and sighed. "You probably don't remember him, Vanitas. He's my… uh… he's _our_ grumpy friend, Roxas." He said putting an arm over the blonde look-alike's shoulders. 

Roxas curled his arm around Sora's waist, his expression still twisted to that vindictive smirk. Vanitas could only stare, his mind too gobsmacked to process what he's seeing, even less what he's going to say. Roxas walked over to the edge of his desk and folded his arms over his chest. Sora watched from where he stood and was obviously a little unnerved with how Roxas acted. 

"How's my brother?" 

_Oh. That explains a lot._

Vanitas propped his cheek up with his hand, his eyes lazily giving him a once over, still partially shocked at seeing this distorted Ventus doppelganger. 

"Ask him yourself. He's your brother."

"Amnesia. Right, of course." Roxas rolled his eyes. "I haven't talked to Ven for a long time, so clue me in."

"We live in the same building." Vanitas smirked. "Just five floors down, it’s called making an effort." 

Roxas bursts to laughter and slams a hand to his face. He turned back to Sora, the goofy grin was long removed from his face, all that remained was a look that resembled an oncoming storm. Clearly, something had upset him, and that something must have been Roxas. Sora tapped on Vanitas's desk and in his serious tone said that he's going to get back to work. Roxas watched him leave their vicinity and clicked his tongue; he seemed upset too. They seem to have their own issues, brewing in between them. Vanitas didn't know what it was that got them so apprehensive, he hadn't said anything that seemed off. Maybe it was just them, there, through open touches and instinctive touches, was 'a thing' that Vanitas would need to be dead not to see. Sora had said they were all friends, but Sora also said 'my' in regard to Roxas and that didn't escape him either.

Vanitas was about to ask about it when a paralegal called for him to report to Riku's office 'immediately'. 

He nods at her, acknowledging the order, he turns to where Roxas was once at, only to find him by Sora's cubicle. He had a sheepish look while he talked inaudibly, Sora was turned away from him, but it certainly looks as if the brunet was giving Roxas a hard time. Vanitas walked towards the paralegal and the last thing he saw was Roxas's form disappearing from view, to where Sora sat. 

_What exactly is going on between those two?_

  
  
  
  
  


Riku's office was different from the bullpen, he didn't have a sad cubicle he shared with another associate, he had an office with glass walls and a door with a title. Vanitas almost sneered at the sight of it, but noticed that Riku was already by the door, opening it for him.

"Vanitas, I heard about your accident. Everything okay?" He opened the door; his expression, confident. Vanitas raised a brow at him, his mouth set to a grimace. 

"Some memory loss here and there." He shrugs as he enters the room. "You're still a prick, Riku." 

"I'll take that as confirmation of your memory of me." Riku sighed and sat on his desk. "I'm glad you're well enough to go to work."

Riku was a year older than him and Vanitas didn't take kindly to being second fiddle to … _a_ nything. Vanitas has always been multifaceted, he had a penchant for picking things up with ease. It was one of the reasons why he got a following, why girls would gaze at him with breathless sighs, and the reason why losing to Riku is something that irked him. He had respect for Riku, but his competitive side always seemed to creep in and win out. 

"Take a seat." Riku gestures to the chair in front of him.

Vanitas scoffed and leaned in the glass wall beside the door. "I don't feel comfortable being told to sit down." 

"Alright, we'll have it your way." Riku takes out a file from his drawer and sets it down with a thud on his desk. "Ven called me the other day, I handled the official matters of the crash and the police testimonies related to it. This file holds all of the evidence we need to file for a suit for collection of damages, or if you want, we could also file a case for criminal negligence, the guy would be facing three to six years in prison."

All Vanitas heard was _'Ven called me'_ and everything else that he heard was a blurb of phonetics and garbled sound. His nose scrunched in displeasure while his face averts to Riku's Law Diploma from HBU on the wall. 

He had the same diploma, he had the same skills. In fact, he was second in rank! _Second_! He could file this case himself, why did Ventus have to call Riku and ask him to file the case for him—why couldn't he just call Sora or Roxas, seeing as they obviously are five cemented ceilings apart. This is ridiculous! What the hell does Riku have that—

"Whoa, calm down. No need to be jealous. " Riku said with an amused chuckle. 

Vanitas shoved his hands to his pockets and clicked his tongue. "I'm not." 

Riku laughed and folded his arms over his chest, the file clipped to his side. “If anything, Ven called me for you."

_Yeah, you prick, that's not fucking helping._

"Just tell me what you called me for." 

He cuts to the chase, his impatience showing. Riku had nodded, quietly amused but settled into his professional headspace. He began to re-explain the terms and the needed choices that Vanitas had to make. He flipped open the file and showed the photos of the crash and the wrecked vehicle that Vanitas had _miraculously_ escaped from without so much as a broken bone in his body. The guy was apparently drunk while he drove through the red light and rammed into Vanitas's car, it was a five car crash accident that caused a major traffic jam for Dusk City and it was headline news for days, Vanitas just didn't watch the news enough to see it reported. Needless to say, his car was totaled and many others were dragged into a worrisome and expensive incident. 

"How much do you want?" Riku asked, solemn. "Then again, he is a kid, we can also lower the plea to a misdemeanor, have him serve it out in community service."

The kid was probably no older than 16. Probably a student driver out to ruin his life like any other teenager. Vanitas didn't care for him, he could ruin lives all he wanted, but he should take responsibility for the lives he's affected because of one mistake. _Not to mention that DUI bastard also took away my fucking memories, so…_

"As much as you can." Vanitas's tone was frighteningly serious, it made the room ice cold. "I don't want this bastard touching a fucking drink without thinking of the lives he's ruined."

"Consider it done." Riku nodded and closed the file. "Or so I'd like to say."

Vanitas lingered inside the room, his face still twisted to a scowl, the memory gap suddenly at the forefront of his thoughts. He always inferred that he wasn't the one to blame for the accident, he just didn't know how much fury he'd actually feel when his assumptions were proven true. He grits his teeth and crosses his arms over his chest. He hated the kid, hated how fragile his stupid car was and he hated that all he could recover was money… while his memories, they're gone and no amount of suits can make it come back. All he could see were Ventus's sorrowful blue eyes. The storm within those oceanic irises were violent, the waves crashed with pain and angst, while misery strikes like thunder in the darkness, blinding and all consuming. He's seen it done, seen Ventus devoured by the pain and misery. 

He bites his lip and nearly growled. "I want him to rot. Riku, I want his life destroyed."

Riku sighed and dropped the file on his desk. He walked to his seat and took out a plain pastel green box. He grinned before he went up to Vanitas, the box still pristine and untouched. Vanitas looks down on box before him, a simple white note on top of the small box: 

_He's just a kid, Vanitas. Take it easy, okay? -- Ventus_

"He really does love you, you know." Riku comments and hands off the box to him.

He keeps his silence, his fingers picking at the tape that sealed the box. Before he opened it, he could smell the confection the moment the box was in front of him. Yet, the topic of conversation before him was something he definitely wanted to avoid. He takes a deep breath and flicks the box open to reveal caramel cubes and bite-sized chocolate chip cookies. 

"Why did you have it?" Vanitas chucks a caramel cube. "When did he give it to you?" 

"This morning, he ambushed me before I got inside the office, told me to give it to you, when you decided to take _extreme_ legal measures." Riku reaches for a cookie or a cube, but Vanitas easily slaps his hand away with a growl. 

_How can he know me that well?_

Would it be selfish of him to keep the box to himself? Ventus meant it for him, he didn't have to share what's for him. He puts the cover back on with flushed cheeks. Meanwhile, Riku wasn't oblivious to his reaction and decided that perhaps he could risk it all for this one moment. 

"Hmm… Even without your memories, you're still so bloody whipped for him." 

Vanitas's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. The small hitch of his breath was hidden by his obnoxiously fake laugh of disbelief. He could lie his way out, he could deny whatever inkling of emotion he felt and leave the room. He could leave right now and deal with the fluttering sensations of his stomach by himself. He could have walked away. 

He really could. 

"Am I, really?" He sounded exhausted. "All I've done lately is hurt him. Without any of my memories… I don't know how to fix us… to fix _me_." 

He had been trying to reclaim his lost memories, it wasn't just sitting around praying that some sort of connection happens. It was draining to continuously look for triggers for things and events he never even knew he lost. It was being thrust into a reality where he's expected to grow and catch up the five years he lost. It was daunting enough to know that his life is at stake, but to be told that he's also responsible for the feelings of another person, one he never knew prior to opening his eyes? It was demanding. 

And Vanitas is just so _so_ goddamn tired. 

"No one can tell you how to fix anything. Just like no one can tell you how to feel." Riku heads for the door beside him, his face reflects a certain pain that Vanitas was familiar with. "Make the mistakes you're afraid to do, because Ven would never give up on you." 

He opened the door and gestured for Vanitas to leave. All the while, Vanitas had kept a stoic expression over his face that melded into his default scowl. He sat back on his desk, the box of caramel cubes and cookies set protectively to his side and buried his wavering thoughts underneath his work that he could finally recall with clarity. 

  
  
  
  
  


Work took longer to finish, apparently the firm was eager to give Vanitas the burnt of the paperwork after learning about his exploits in the legal clinic of HBU. Vanitas ended up pulled from meeting after meeting, conference room after conference room. He barely had time to take a break and breathe. In the long run, Vanitas was actually thankful for two aspects: first, it proved that memories can be recalled by either a strong trigger or through a battery of routine, and second, his head was too busy to think of anything else. The time he spent at the clinic was one of the most crucial memories he wanted to gain, and then, the battery of routine had finally hammered it out of him. It seemed like stitching arguments, planning countermeasures and rebuttals were as easy for him as breathing. He finally felt like something clicked in place, the feeling of detachment, aimlessly floating by, waiting for a place to latch onto, was finally gone. He had footing and Vanitas was ecstatic to put his feet back on the ground. 

The clock read: _09:01:53PM_

"Vanitas," Roxas was perched over the backrest of his seat. "Sora and I are calling it, you should too." 

Vanitas tilts his head back, his brow raised and lips set to a half-smile. He peers closer to Roxas, noticing a slight difference between him and Ventus. Roxas had more defined features, sharper edges and glassy almost electric blue eyes. The curve of his face was also prone to expression not unfamiliar from his own face, the blonde beside him had a more natural scowl, and a deeper and calmer register. It was surreal to see the face of Ventus hold such tempered rage, when Vanitas couldn't even remember if Ventus was capable of true savage anger. 

"Yeah. I guess I'll just have to finish these back at the flat." 

Roxas raised his brows, stupefied. "Trust me. Don't bring that home." 

He would have protested and explained that he barely slept properly at that guilt drenched flat, when Sora bounced over to them. His bag slung to his shoulder, his outfit missing its tie, his shirt's top three buttons were undone and his sleeves were pushed up. Vanitas turns his eyes back to Roxas, he mirrors Sora's current look, only wearing an off-white shirt, while Sora wore navy. He chuckles and moves his seat back. Roxas moved away and found himself leaning over Sora's shoulder, both their eyes watching Vanitas with intent. 

"Just say it." 

Sora slips his arm around Roxas's waist. "Wanna join us for a smoke, we'll have late dinner and then go straight home." 

Vanitas grinned, already agreeing with his eyes. He circled out of his cubicle and joined the two as they walked towards the lift. He stayed back, preferring to observe the two and how they interacted, seeing as Sora would constantly reach for Roxas, while Roxas would casually drift closer to Sora as they walked. They never tried to get closer or more intimate, probably too aware of Vanitas's presence at their back. He rolled his eyes and pulled his phone out from his pocket. 

_8 missed call(s)_

_14 new messages  
  
_

_SHIT. I FUCKED UP._

Vanitas pocketed his phone and the light buzz of chatter from Sora and Roxas quiets. Sora gazed at him, curious, while Roxas only rolled his eyes, already putting two and two together. Roxas muttered something under his breath and Sora nods in understanding. 

"Check your messages and then call him." Sora says with a kind smile. "Tell him you're headed home." 

_I'm still holding classes!_

_(03:14:34PM)_

_It's me, Ventus. I forgot if I saved my number on your new phone._

_(03:14:53PM)_

_Vanitas?_

_(06:35:01PM)_

_Have you had dinner?_

_(07:03:34PM)_

_Naminé messaged me. You didn't go to your check up… are you okay?_

_(07:04:14PM)_

_Please pick up… please._

_(07:10:57PM)_

_Where are you…?_

_(08:02:47PM)_

The other messages were much the same. It held the shattered pieces of Ventus's anxiety, all of it punctured through Vanitas's face. He wanted to call, just as Sora had said, but Vanitas realized that if there's one thing he feared, it's hearing Ventus's voice through the phone, broken and possibly crying, and he definitely, _definitely,_ cannot handle the crying. 

"Why don't you guys just eat at my place?" 

Roxas grabbed at Sora's forearm. His head shook in an automatic refusal. Roxas was fine until the invitation, as if the mere statement put a gun to his head. Roxas always talked to him with a certain bravado and smug confidence, a quality that Vanitas thought they shared. It was different from how 18-year-old Ventus acted, there was nothing confident about him, he was… blatantly insecure, a loud mouth that sought external validation and empty praises. But Roxas… Roxas was the real deal. 

Vanitas couldn't help but stare at him with inquisitive interest. 

Sora brushed Roxas's grip off, giving an apologetic smile towards him. "Sure, Vanitas. Just... Call Ven, first." 

"Right." He said with little confidence. He's back to exactly where he was five seconds ago and it looked even worse than it did five seconds ago. He didn't know what to say or how to say what it is that he wanted to say, it's even more confusing to factor in this late dinner invitation in a place he barely remembered living at. He's only realized that he's dug a shallow grave and now has to lay in it. 

"How about we surprise him?" Vanitas said instead, tone coloured with unbridled doubt. 

Roxas has gawked at them from the side, gritting his teeth over the possible end to the busy day they've had. 

"That's a stupid idea."

  
  
  
  


At 9:10PM, the three of them marched up to the apartment door and, without any known warning, rang the doorbell. Vanitas, in all his 18 years of conscious existence, has never felt more nervous. He got up and went to do a job he had forgotten to do, but even that fell short of the mark from the feeling of standing, guilt-ridden, before a door that may no longer open for him. How much could Ventus take, how far would Vanitas need to push for him to completely shut him out, and what would Vanitas feel when the door shuts, locked and closed behind them? 

He stood there at the middle of their two friends and waited, not long, for Ventus to get to the door and open it. Much to Vanitas's shock, Ventus wasn't mad and it looked like he didn't really care that he was showing up at their doorstep at this late hour.

Ventus opened the door rubbing his reddened tired eyes, still wrapped in the clothes he wore to work. He tries to put up a smile but falters as soon as he sees his brother at the door. He turned his blue eyes back to him, and Vanitas had wanted to gouge his eyes out. He's seen Ventus long for _his Vanitas,_ he's aware that every day Teenage Vanitas wakes up in the body of the man he loves, a little piece of his hope dies. He's seen Ventus crave for him, biting his lips and rushing at him only to suspend midway to remember that he wasn't _him_. The eyes that pleaded to him that morning, those eyes of anxiety and unknown trepidation, they were a kindness against the pair that stared at him with horrific desolation. 

"... Hello." Was all Ventus said and turned around to head back inside. Instinctively, Vanitas lunges and aims for his wrist, he didn't have any particularly choice words, neither did he think he could say a word to be taken as a halfway decent apology. But all his body wanted was to touch him. He hears Ventus sniff and gulp, he sees his muscles jerk on contact; the two by the door, completely forgotten for a moment. 

"Ventus, I'm—“

" _Stop_. Don't say it." He whispered, torturously glum, and pulled away from his grasp. "I'll make some tea."

"We… actually came to have dinner." Sora pipes up, toeing his shoes off at the entrance. He peeks out from Vanitas's stoic stance and comfortingly taps him on the shoulder. "I'll help you out, Ven!" 

"No!" He recoils. "Uh… no, Sora. It's fine, I'll heat up some pasta, I think I can fix something up. I'll catch up with you all… after."

_Well? Do something, jackass. He's obviously upset, and you haven't apologized!_

Sora stands in akimbo, face set to a despondent frown. Roxas was still by the door, awkwardly gauging whether he should step foot on the apartment or retreat back to his and Sora's room. They exchanged glances and he found himself stepping into the room. Vanitas turns his attention to the bustling kitchen noises, his concern evident. Sora and Roxas had milled about the couch and chatted with themselves to keep the lid over awkwardness. 

_He probably wants alone time. He rejected Sora's help, after all._

Vanitas brings his attention back to the two in the living room, their moods still wary at the same time relieved, the tension was still present in the air, but not being around Ventus made the air considerably lighter. With the advent of dinner in the air, the danger of pushing Ventus to an unknown, yet dangerously bad, state of mind, Vanitas finally makes the decision to pick apart the floating elephant in the room. 

"How about a smoke?" 

The two's expressions lit up, answering with their 'yeahs' and sighs. They followed him to the balcony. Sora finally able to stretch out under the cold night night, while Roxas finally relaxed, his usual look of indifference plain on his face. Sora faces the glass door of the balcony, his elbows over the railing, he hums and tilts his head, a signal for Vanitas to explain what exactly has happened.

"Ven seems… off doesn't he?" Sora poses. 

Roxas nods and stares at Vanitas. "He seems troubled, anything you'd like to add?"

"You tell me. I remember some parts of my life, but anything relating to Ventus… I've completely blanked out." He admitted bitterly and ran a hand down his face. 

Roxas lights his stick up and faces the cityscape, his elbow ghostly near Sora's. He takes a drag and looks to the night sky. "Hmm. That explains a lot." 

"With words, Roxas." Vanitas's hand raises to tap him, asking for the pack and the lighter. He didn't see Roxas smirk, but he did see him refuse his question by the shake of his head. 

"You haven't smoked since you dated Ven. I don't think he'll appreciate you smoking again." He said, voice distant, he wasn't about to lay all the cards down for him. He takes a drag and blows the air out. "But if you really want to, I'm not gonna say 'no'." 

Sora's hand unceremoniously hits his head. The brunet side-eyed and glared from his position. Roxas rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. Sora lets out a tired sigh, his face mirroring his breath. Tired and strained. He turned his attention back to Vanitas and smiled, apologetic and gentle. 

"Come to think of it, you changed a lot after you started dating Ven." He says, taking the pack from the blonde's side, lighting his own stick. He slides the pack back to Roxas's jacket pocket, and peeks through the glass door, "You probably don't remember it, but Ven… he smiles more with you." 

_Yeah, but all he's been doing when I'm near is this… fucked up smile._

Roxas flicks off the rest of the cigarette, and sets the butt on the railing. Vanitas hadn't smoked in a long time, there were no ashtrays about and neither was a bin in sight. Their building had a strict 'no smoking's policy, and he rather not get the two flat owners into more trouble than he already has. He turns to them, hesitant in joining the conversation, but relents in the end. 

"Ventus he… was so _childish_." Roxas's smirk fades into a kinder grimace, his eyes soften as he stares at his hands. "He used to go to classes with the weirdest clothes, he told everyone that it was a statement." 

"He did stand out, wearing different pairs of socks and those asymmetrical shirts!" Sora adds, a small smile gracing his face. His blue eyes flicker back to Roxas's, Vanitas thought he saw Sora's eyes gleamed with a certain tinge of mischief, but the reaction was too fast to truly say it did. However, the hand covering Roxas's flushed face was enough proof that, indeed, there was a hidden innuendo in Sora's actions. 

Vanitas was about to put to words what he's been closely observing the entire day, about Sora and Roxas's relationship, but the glass door slides open, and he found himself staring at the pink-faced blonde that opened it. Ventus glances at him and turns away quickly, mouthing his belated greetings to the two and slid the door wider.

"I heated up some pasta, it's on the counter." He yawns, his mouth set to a variant of his fake smiles. "Uh… well, anyway--"

Sora, at one point, had put out his cigarette and bound himself to pulling Ventus out to the balcony. Ventus had changed from his work clothes to a hoodie that's definitely much, much larger than his frame would make out. He was drowning in cloth, the hoodie ended just before his knees, while his hands were covered by the sheer length of the sleeves. Sora had yanked him from his spot, and settled him under his arm and pressed close to him. 

"Look, Ven, sorry we kept him. We didn't know the bonehead didn't tell you he was running home late!" Sora leads the conversation, 

Ventus chuckles. "Nah, Sora, Riku actually told me that he saw you three were still in the office when he left for home." 

"Yeah, but you were still worried." He grins, playful and endearing. "That still warrants an apology!" 

Ventus shakes his head, his mouth set to a wide sincere grin, and returns the half-hug by leaning slightly over Sora's chest. 

"Thank you, Sora." He said, relief all over his face. "But I'm fine, I promise." 

Vanitas scrunched his nose and looked away. His knuckles turning white at the weird flutter of his stomach and dryness of his throat brought by watching Ventus interact with Sora. _He… he is so annoying!_ Was all he thought, silently cursing Ventus's reception of Sora's touches and smiles. 

"W-What were you all talking about?" He stutters. His eyes fixating over to Vanitas, searching for something and realizing whatever it was, didn't exist in Vanitas's hands.

"You." Roxas speaks up. "You and your weird statement clothes."

To Vanitas's side, Roxas had reached for his pack and lit up another stick. Vanitas wanted to snatch a stick himself, but he held off on asking. Roxas didn't look towards Ventus and Ventus didn't look at him either. 

"Ah... yeah… I started being into these street-fashion clothes, they were a lot of fun." He giggles, nervous. "You were into streetwear then too, right, Roxas?" 

Roxas shifted in his spot and raised a curious brow at him. "Tch. Yeah, I was, but not the stupid looking kind. You literally wore a shirt made up of pieces of three others. It was a mess, Ven."

Ventus would wear clothes that were once part of probably three or two other separately made pieces. He wore them with projected confidence that the student body eventually accepted it as his style, some had tried to copy him, but no one really fit the style more than Ventus. The memories he has, shows a clear picture of Ventus wearing a half black-crop top with half a skull printed and the other half was a gray white collared plaid that was much longer than its other half, he wore skin tight tattered black jeans and lace up army boots. He drew attention, a lot of attention that had him swarmed with people all the time. Vanitas couldn't even catch a glimpse of him. All because of some stupid weird sewing machine explosion shit!

Vanitas snorts in agreement. "It did get him what he wanted. Attention. And we all know how Venty-Wenty loves being the center of attention."

Sora frowns at them and tightens his hold over the blonde in his grasp. "Don't listen to them, they're just being jerks. Knock it off, Roxas, Vanitas."

"Nah, Ven knows we're just playing around, right, Ven?" Roxas said in contempt. "Don't be so sensitive." 

Ventus laughed, the hollowness echoed around them, as he casually detached himself from Sora. He turned his icy blue eyes to Vanitas's nonchalant expression, it was the same look he gave before he left that morning, the same one that flew above Vanitas's head.

_What… what do you want?_

He grinds his teeth and clenches his fist, he's really beginning to hate that laugh, and now there's _this_ face. It made Vanitas uncomfortable, it called back the fluttering feelings in his stomach and emptied his mind, rendering him speechless. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out, but still, Ventus nods at him as if it answered his burning question. 

"It was good to see you guys. But I'm really tired." He looks to Vanitas for one last second before heading inside. 

Was it a sign, was it a silent request to follow him, or did he want more space? If only those eyes didn't drain him of his common sense. He still has yet to recall any memory regarding him, and acting too familiar with him makes everything weird and unnecessary. There was a line that he couldn't cross, one where Ventus drew when he started seeing him in two. 

"Ven! Hey, wait!" Sora calls out, his feet under him as he chases Ventus inside, leaving Roxas with Vanitas. 

"Are you just gonna let that happen?" Roxas starts, sliding down the railing to a squat. A bothered look faded away the moment Vanitas stared at him and his vague question. 

Roxas has a point, when he said Ventus was being too sensitive. There was nothing wrong about liking attention, it was nothing Vanitas could judge him for. People have their own way of finding validation and if that was Ventus's manner, then, he really could care less… but the least he could do was to make him see how futile it is. He never meant to hurt Ventus, but so far, whatever he meant always got lost in translation. If anything, he'd only make things worse. 

"We were just kidding around. Don't we joke around anymore?" 

Roxas scoffed, sounding smug. "You weren't always."

Vanitas clicked his tongue, knowing that Roxas was right. In fact, he remembers it more vividly than anyone, the way he said things to push Ventus away, to hurt him enough so that he'd stop trying to get closer to him. He couldn't stand him, couldn't understand the need to be surrounded by so many people and their false acceptance. He wanted vain glories and it pissed him off, even if he had nothing to do with it. He absolutely had nothing to do with Ventus and his blinded dreams. 

"Sora… he's the best person to comfort him. I… wouldn't know what to say."

_I'll just make him sad… or worse, make him cry._

Roxas smirks and flicks Vanitas's forehead. "You never do, but somehow, Ven always chose you." 

Vanitas swats his hand away.   
  


_"Pretend." Roxas whispered, his warm breath ghosting over him._

_He licks his lips and presses soft kisses over his neck. He lets his hands explore the body he straddled. Running his fingers through every curve and definition of muscle, pulling up his shirt and drawing unknown patterns over his skin. He sits back up, his face flushed pink and his lips kiss-bitten. The dried up trail of tears was apparent from where Vanitas laid, as he reached up to wipe the new tears threatening to fall. Roxas bites his lip and swats his hand away._

_"Don't. You said you didn't care if I used you!" He yells, rolling his hips down on his, making Vanitas stifle his moan with a hiss._

_Undeterred, his face still held a softness to them, his hand reached up to cup Roxas's tear-stained cheek, his fingers tangled with blonde hair, while his other hand rests over his thigh. His thumb wiped away fresh warm tears, as Roxas glared at him with broken eyes._

_"I can't… Van."_

_"I know." He frowns. "Come here."_

_He pulls Roxas down, silencing his sobs with his lips. Roxas kissed back, pliant, lost, fervent and filled with hunger. Vanitas, although the one to initiate the kiss, let's Roxas lead. Only responding with little pecks when Roxas breaks into tears, and when Roxas wishes to disappear and deepens their kiss, he let's him, sliding their tongues together in ardent want. Roxas pulls away, barely able to breathe, he rests his forehead against his and let's his warm tears fall over Vanitas's expressionless face._

_"Why can't you love me… Sora?"_   
  


Vanitas found himself staring at the floor of the balcony. His dazed state earned him Roxas's attention. He had lit up another stick and was almost halfway through it. He flicks the ashes away and looks to the sky. 

"I remembered." Vanitas mutters, Roxas seemingly disinterested. "How you used to pine for Sora." 

Roxas chuckles and places a finger to his lips, an international sign to 'keep quiet'. He hushes further explanations that may fall out of his lips and smiles a woeful one, before standing up to head back inside. 

"... Roxas." 

He paused and for a moment his confident smirk was back. "You always chose Ven too." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some memories are better discovered than said. Vanitas realises that perhaps Ventus isn’t as annoying as he remembered. Naminé finally answers the Riku question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little peaceful, a reprieve from the oncoming angst for both SoRoku and VanVen. I think I’m just two chapters out before it’s conclusion, thank you so much for reading!

_It was the first of a new year, he was a sophomore now, a year wiser to all the tricks and pitfalls of the academic system. No matter how prestigious Hollow Bastion University was, it doesn’t escape the virus of incompetent and highly paid professors from imparting their tyranny among students. It was another year, and Vanitas has his eye on the prize: First Rank. He’s not going to be distracted by the shitty education system anymore, he needed to get out of Social Welfare clutches and if there’s a point in his life where he’s going to attain freedom, it’s taking that Bachelor’s and graduating with colours. Then… he’d finally be able to breathe and figure out what he wanted to do with his life._

_Don’t get him wrong, he does have a vision of what lays before him after, but nothing is ever set in stone. He knew by experience that one plan is not enough, contingencies are key and adaptability is strength. He can bide his time, if only to plan for everyone else’s ultimate demise._

_“Vanitas!” Naminé waves at him from the ground floor, their lecture hall only being five floors he hears her voice easily through the crowd. He groans and steps back, he can’t be caught on the rooftop, it was prohibited to students, and Naminé just outed his private area in front of the student body… well those that went to campus by 9AM._

_“Jerk!” He hears her grumble from below and only cackles back in response._

_It was the first day of the new semester, which means Naminé would find him up that roof whether she's pissed off or not, it was tradition. Every start of the new semester, they'd meet up before classes get underway and read a time capsule of promises and wishes they'd made up before. It was Naminé that started it, she was the one that found a small container that could be wedged between the loose bricks of the lecture hall's building. Vanitas didn't think much of it, but Naminé was a part of his past that he'd like to keep. Even if it means being a sap for fifteen or so minutes._

_As he puts out his cigarette and lights another. Naminé bounds from the stairwell door, her eyes fixed to a glare and arms in akimbo._

_"You said you'd quit that!"_

_"I did." He shrugs, all smug. "never said when."_

_She groans and smacks at hand to her face. "Should've known. Did you at least do your list this time?”_

_He rolls his eyes and takes a folded paper from his back pocket. He takes a long drag, just to see her annoyed scowl and hands her the paper. She mockingly picks it up with the very tips of her fingers, a disgusted look on her face. Vanitas took another drag, while she waves her hand in front of her face to disperse the smoke._

_Naminé reads his note, her annoyed face only makes him grin wider. “Hey, smartass, this is not what we talked about! What the heck is ‘not dying’ as a wish, we said we’d write out our dreams this year! Of fucking course I’m not gonna let you die, fix it!”_

_“Geez. I don’t really have one.” He hums, pulling out a loose brick from the wall. He reaches in to take out a small pencil case they placed there a year ago. He flips open the case and takes out the paper that Naminé made and wrote for him. “That's a 'you' thing."_

_She catches the tossed case and takes out hers. All the while Vanitas has grunted at the things written down the paper Naminé designated for him. She unfolds her own list and settles to leaning over the side of the brick wall._

_"I made a lot of friends in my course, everybody was kind… or tense, but they're good people." She smiles at the first item on her paper, the phrase read: 'make more friends!'._

_Vanitas side-eyes her, internally relieved that she found a place in her course. He never liked the 'friends' that gravitate towards her, they were always in for a different thing, like dating or using her intellect in exchange for friendship. Naminé had a metaphorical mark on her head that screamed 'bully me, please', and Vanitas saw it as plain as day when they were five and met at the city orphanage. He's glad for her, at the same time wary, she grew up with shit judge of character, and Vanitas always ended up beating the living daylights out of the people that tried to use her._

_"What kind of fucked up scale did you judge them with this time?" He raises his brow at her, his lips twisted to a condescending smirk. "Did this one steal your homework, threw your backpack at the quad fountain, drugged you at a party—"_

_"Would you please trust me on this." She said with great resolve, "Kairi is amazing, she may be a little crass at some point but she means well, while Xion is one of the smartest students in our class. I think you'd like them."_

_He scoffs and gives a noncommittal nod. He wasn't going to call her out on her trusting nature. He simply has to prove her wrong when the time comes._

_The list Naminé made for him was definitely_ **_not_ ** _what he would come up with._ **_These aren't dreams, it's…_ ** _he snickers at the first two items: getting a perfect score on a departmental exam; and, get to the top ten ranks. He may go around with piercings over his ear, smoking during breaks and skipping classes whenever, but he is incredibly capable of keeping his academic load in check. He was one of the best scoring students in their grade, graduating only short of the top three ranking in high school._

_Vanitas never felt the need to announce it, it was a part of his life and he'd worked hard on it behind closed doors. It benefited him, gave him more focus, and more focus meant easily escaping the life he no longer wanted. More than what people assume given the way he looked and dressed. He always had a scary delinquent vibe to his outfits and apparently Naminé wasn't wiser to it. He browses the other items and they were within a cluster of extending his circle to other people, which he only sighed out in response._

_"You really think I need to dream about getting perfect marks? What's this bullshit about making friends?"_

_She nods. "You're an asshole, but you're also a genius, you could have finished high school as First Rank. You think I didn't notice that? I want you to focus on it. You deserve so much more credit than you care to strive for and it's … agonizing to see you degrade yourself like that. And the friends thing? Vani, Have you seen yourself? You look like you're always ready to deck someone—"_ **_she's not wrong_ ** _"—I just hope you're not being too much of a dick without me there."_

_"I can manage to be a person just fine. Just like I managed to keep you around for so long." She grins at him, mirroring the mischief that Vanitas imposes. They've been friends for a long time, but they both know who bears the burden of keeping them connected._

_"Make one friend this year, Vani." She purses her lips with a hum. "And I'll… make that drawing of yours into a plushie!"_

_Through their years of being friends, Naminé had dragged him into sharing some hobbies, in particular there was her love for art. She taught him how to draw and doodle, the bare basics of using imagination to put down an image through graphite or charcoal. Vanitas secretly loved it, he had vivid nightmares as a kid and setting them into creepy little creatures on paper was cathartic. The offer to make them into something he could physically touch was a bribe straight to the 9 year old that lived in him._

_Naminé knew him well._

_"So you could make them creepier than usual? No thanks. Hard pass."_

_But he knew her too, along with her horrendous needlework._

_Vanitas was about to get an earful, when he heard the sound of the door to the rooftop opening. Brunet spikes peeks from a distance, followed by smooth silver, the mood in the air changed and Naminé would be lucky to get a word out of the scowling boy before him._

_"Sora!" She opts to entertain the newcomers, her pale blues settle on teal and all the air in her lungs gets knocked out. Her waving hand hangs loose over her head, her cheeks glowed a fresh shade of pink._

_"Naminé’s a friend of Kairi’s!” Sora says to the silver-haired boy beside him. “And… apparently she’s… dating… you?”_

_Vanitas nearly puked out chunks at the brunet. He snorts and folds his arms over his chest. They hadn’t been mistaken as a couple since middle school and years later, the same feeling of disgust still creeps all over him._

_“She wishes.” Naminé thwacks him on the head with the makeshift time capsule. Vanitas rubbed the spot where the metallic case hit and glared at her from the side._

_Sora murmured confused sounds before laughing at their shenanigans. Riku was completely flabbergasted, it was always a wonder hanging out with his underclassmen. They seem to speak a different language than him and he’s currently hanging back until the most mature of them would come up for air and explain. Teal eyes stared at golden ones, Vanitas sighed knowing he’s up on the plate to make semblance of the scene._

_“I’ve known her since we were kids. She’s like my sister.”_

_She chuckles, and with a wide toothy grin puts out her hand. “I’m Naminé.”_

_“Riku.” He smiles back, almost a little too charmingly for Vanitas’s own liking._

_He was about to end whatever it was that was starting there, stop any musical fanfares that may be playing in the background, when Sora slings an arm over his shoulders and drags him away to the other side of the rooftop. He made a shit excuse about going for a drag and dragged Vanitas with him. Much to Vanitas’s annoyance, Sora was way stronger when he put his fight into it. He couldn’t shrug or pull off the incessant chokehold over him and he’s stuck to the side of the rooftop, while his best friend is being preyed on by some silver haired wolf right under his nose._

_“Sora!” Vanitas hissed, still fighting him. “Let go of me—“_

_“Ssh! Just be cool, man.” He struggled. “I’m gonna let you go, we’re gonna have a smoke and you’re gonna calm down because Riku is a great guy and Naminé is in good hands.”_

_Vanitas narrowed his eyes, a murderous intent exudes over him like it’s own existence. He grips the forearm over his chest and slips out from his grasp, twisting Sora’s arm in the process, locking the arm behind his back. He grunted at the comment and focused his murderous intent across the roof and saw… Naminé giggling, happily and excitedly, while Riku had the same tint over his face._

_“See, all according to plan!” Sora says with cheer. "Just let it happen, Vanitas."_

_He clicked his tongue and freed him from the hold. “If your stupid plan fails, and it will. You’re dead, Sora.”_

_Sora laughs, nervously, never really sure if it was a figure of speech or if he’d be preparing his funeral service after this encounter. Vanitas has those ‘I’m dead serious’ faces, the kind that doesn’t play by the rules and suffers from high prejudice from authority because he looked like he’d cause some trouble. Although, after a couple of months getting to know him, Sora can say that Vanitas was a pretty upstanding guy, he can even go so far as to say he's quite the role model, if people looked past his intimidating aura, his sadistic smirk, problematic smoking, malicious defiant pranks…_ er… I'm losing my point. 

_Vanitas rolled his eyes and took his pack out, throwing him a stick. They took their long drags together before they settled on the ground view from the rooftop. There were a lot of first years, their excitement loudly echoing around them. The second years were less noisy and more anxious about the onslaught of a new year, and the third and fourth years were still missing from the crop._

_"I got summoned by the Dean today. Apparently our class is getting a new student, transferred from TU." Sora had been the student body representative since their first day on campus and apparently the role had grown on him, come second year, he's already point man for their entire year._

_Vanitas blows another to the air. "Remind me again why it's so easy to get into our class when we're supposed to be the top ranking students in our year?"_

_"Logic would say he's also the same rank in TU, wouldn't it?" He said with a sly smile. "Makes you wonder what his reason for transferring here is, huh."_

_"I'm sure you'll have him all figured out when you meet him." Vanitas grunts, side-eyeing the budding couple at the otherside of the roof. They were still talking and she seemed completely happy about it._

_Sora hums playfully. "Maybe. Who knows?"_

_He rolled his eyes at Sora's vaguely worded answer. There was absolutely nobody that Sora met that didn't get attached to him like glue. He was magnetic and almost fearfully so, he managed the feat of being friends with him who was widely avoided for his daunting aloofness. He had a knack for connecting with people and whoever this transfer student is, he's definitely going to be the same._

———

It's been three weeks since the night he dragged Sora and Roxas to their apartments, and for about the same time, Vanitas has woken up to the sight of scattered photos and yearbooks over their living room coffee table. His blurry vision makes out a picture that Naminé took while they were at the roof of the lecture hall, she had her arm thrown over his neck while the other snapped the camera. It wasn't from the day of the memory but somehow their shared moments spent on that rooftop had all returned to him.

It was where the both of them went for small victories; where Vanitas goes to pause the world, when it was too much; and, where they both snuck bottles of beers to celebrate his release from the Social Worker's systems. It was an uncommon feat, not a lot of the city orphans were given the same odds, even with diplomas some orphans are still kept within the system. But just as the memory said, he kept his eyes front and got the freedom he wanted. At the very least, he's managed to retrace the part of his life that meant the world to him at 18, because, quite frankly, the missing five years of his life has thrown him to a pit of muddled memories, fucked up emotions and guilt. 

Guilt. 

It hangs over him like a curse. He couldn't even look at Ventus, since the memory of Roxas. Neither could Ventus spare him more than three words a day. He never took the bed since that night, and Ventus had quietly taken the bedroom every night since then too. He couldn't bear it, the thoughts weighed over him. The memory became even clearer the more he wanted to shake off how he and Roxas would fuck to keep the blonde's mind off of his heartbreak. It was the only real dread he felt, the only memory that shook him to his core, because for all the wrong reasons he wanted nothing more than to regain what he lost. How could he have ended up with Ventus, when Roxas had laid down and barred his soul to him?

Perhaps every question he had was already answered by the hole in his head, or rather, what vexed him more is that despite his memories’ slow return, he still had more questions than answers. If he counted how many memories of Ventus has returned to him, he could raise a hand and that’s still more than all of them. Some were minute things such as their first meeting, others were his class performance or menial school activities that always ended with his blue eyes staring hopefully over to him, as if silently asking to be praised. Vanitas never saw his own face but he could feel that the Vanitas in his memory was happy to oblige Ventus of what he asked. 

Guilt was why he couldn't get up and leave the couch, why he camped out at their living room and refused to face Ventus at their bedroom. His chest, feet and head weighed a ton, immersed in the congested labyrinth of unknown memories. Everything felt wrong and the only small pieces of repose he found before him were encased in photos. If only he could go back, if only these photos would talk to him, then maybe he could see more than Ventus’s blank sullen eyes and flushed cheeks; maybe there is more to the memory than the rueful expression he remembered that harboured agony and anger. Ventus had faced him, in this lone recurring memory, his eyes always wistful as he gazed at him. 

Alarmingly sedate. 

Suspiciously happy. 

_Was I the one that led him to that?_

He glared at another photo, it was of himself, the way he remembered his face at 18, and Naminé, her blonde hair was tied to the side and her face held a wide grin as she clicked the photo. She was the only person he remembered clearly that she became a refuge to his jagged mind. He could at least find some semblance of himself in their photos, and trace his memories from there. He turns the page and sees a shot of their block section: Sora was standing atop the professor’s desk holding up his phone for a group selfie. The entire class had rounded up at the space available and posed for the shot, while Vanitas's face was directed to the left of the photo over something offscreen. The part of him that showed was the profile of his face, his mouth frozen to a soft smirk. There was one other person that didn’t look at the camera lens and preferred to keep his soft stare over the boy that held his phone to capture the moment. 

If everyone said that Vanitas is ‘bloody whipped’ for Ventus, then they obviously haven’t seen the way Roxas could melt adamantite with the way he looked at Sora. His usually sharp crystal blue eyes were rounded and shone such fondness that it was only logical for his face to carry a smile with the same sentiment. Roxas had eyes only for Sora, back then, and even now. 

_That answers that, huh?_

Although those crystal eyes bore warmth in them, Vanitas could taste the bitterness it weaved through gentle gazes. The ache more prominent the longer he looked. The pain that he saw over those eyes, a mirror to what had currently reflected on Ventus. He remembered bits, small puzzles that gave him a glimpse of how he ended up housed under one roof with Ventus, but never the whole. Never the reason he wanted to know. 

He sits up on the couch, his head turning towards the front door. It was close to three in the morning, and Ventus has yet to return from his secret midnight stroll. He sneaks out at the dead of night, passing Vanitas's lying form on the couch, pausing enough for Vanitas to notice eyes on him. He'd leave quietly after, and Vanitas would sit up after the front door lock engages. The flurry of nerves edged up from his chest to his throat and for three weeks, Ventus had filled his thoughts every waking hour. 

_Flowers. Yellow, red and blue petals danced along the breeze, the stone pavement littered with the same colours of idyllic pastels and vivid vermillion. At the center of the whirlwind was the famous Radiant Garden fountain. The skies began to burn to a sunset titian, the air suddenly felt different. He remembered the frigid winds, signaling the end of autumn, the cold wind on his face, but for some reason he felt warm._

The front door closes with a quiet sound of the lock being engaged. He hears a soft thump of shoes being placed on the shoe rack, and, in less than a minute more, Ventus walks in from the entryway and into Vanitas's current bedroom. The lights were still shut and everything was drowning in darkness, Ventus could hardly make out Vanitas's sitting form, but they held each other's stare longer than they have for days. The silence spreads all over them, the pause in air suspends them from time. Ventus lets out a soft sigh and turns away, heading to their bedroom. 

"Good night, Vanitas." 

He wanted to say something, say anything. He had the darkness to hide his flushed face and his almost begging stare, he didn't need to worry about appearances or how Ventus's reaction would stir his insides like a confused tornado. He could never tell what he would say, how he would react, and his voice… the mere sound of his name spoken in that soft gentle tone, although it pains him to accept the sadness in his voice, Ventus finally saw him again. 

He opened his mouth and watched Ventus disappear behind their bedroom door. 

"Good night, Ventus." 

———

The memory of Naminé and Riku's relationship came at him like an angry tsunami. His head spun and he found himself on the floor of their apartment, hearing an echo of a shouting match long past. He gripped and pulled at his hair, the agony in their voice rang around him, the sound of sobs and wails coursed through him like it was his own. 

They fought _a lot_. 

Naminé ran to his door and he smuggled her to stay at night. Other times he carried her to Kairi's dorm and told her what happened. But most of the time, Naminé would knock on his door, with two bottles of beer, in tears. 

_No… it wasn't my dorm. It was Ventus's._

Vaguely, he remembers Sora saying: 'It's just how Ven is, going to Ven after a break up is just part of the process. He's… warm and his presence is like a hug that erases whatever stupid thing you did. Everyone goes to him.' That's why he's so popular, Ventus was kind. He may be obnoxiously loud for Vanitas, but everyone else had grown to love his bubbly personality. He was a naive kid, who was subtle as a truck about who he fancied in college. His blue eyes were never far from where Vanitas would be. It was normal for Ventus to stare at him from afar, all his attention and senses focused only on him; but whenever these brokenhearted people came, Ventus wouldn't spare him a second. As if he was air and suddenly invisible. 

It was then that he started to open his mouth, his initial instinct telling him to demand for the attention he was _entitled_ to, in the end he came up empty. He sat on his seat in class and peeks, ever so secretively, over to how the annoying blonde's face would soften, how his eyes would glimmer in vicarious pain. Vanitas wanted to hold his chin up and force those eyes back to him, but he didn't. He sits on his seat, a facade of a book on his desk, while he covers half of his face with his propped up hand. 

_"You're bloody whipped for him."_

Suddenly, the words Naminé said began to make sense. If only his head wasn't so fucking busy with retracing a memory that battered him so much, his hands and legs shook as he sat himself down on the couch. His hands cradled his head as he focused on the blaring noise around him. 

_Naminé stands before their doorway, her eyes puffy and red, her lips quivering. She had her hands gripped tightly over the handle of her bag, her lower lip bleeds at the force she used to stifle her sobs. Ventus easily pulled her into his arms, resting his hand over her head and his other hand rubbing comforting circles over her back. She sobs into his shoulders and Ventus continuing his small ministrations, peeked at Vanitas to close the open door behind her._

_She pulls herself away and looks at Ventus in the eye. She forced a smile on her face and said: "It's over. We're over."_

_Vanitas nearly slammed the door and cracked their walls. He growled from where he stood and folded his arms over his chest angrily. Ventus sends him a look that tells him to calm down, while he responds by clicking his tongue and stomping over to the kitchen. He grits his teeth and pulls out mugs for the customary drink offer. He makes Naminé hot white chocolate, steeps some chamomile tea for Ventus and pours black coffee for himself. He needed to keep his hands busy or else he's going to rush up the apartment floors and beat the living daylights out of the bastard that brought Riku into Naminé's life._

_He peeks at the two from the kitchen and sees Ventus gently leading her to the living room, putting their throw blanket over her shoulders and taking a seat beside her. She lets her tears fall and leans over Ventus's open shoulder, shaking and shuddering under his comforting embrace._

_"Where is he?"_

_Naminé shook her head. "No, Vani, it's okay."_

_"That's not the question." He sets down two mugs on the coffee table with a loud clack. Surprisingly, neither the mug or the table broke, but both of them knew that Vanitas could and would break walls, tables and mugs, if Ventus wasn't looking at him with those grumpy reprimanding eyes._

_"Where is he, Naminé!" He demanded more than asked. He glowered at both of them, his brow twitched in annoyance. Anyone within a 10 meter radius from him would probably cower on sight, but not them._

_Not his childhood best friend._

_And definitely not his better half._

_"Van," Ventus voices out and turns his attention back to her. "That's not important right now. Tell us what happened, Naminé."_

_"We've been fighting a lot. I know that it's stressful for him… but it's the same for me!" She blubbers without premise. "I'm in my first year of residency and he's going to take the Citywide licensure in a couple of months, but can't he see that I also need him?"_

_Riku was a year older than all of them. Graduating high school ahead and entering the prestigious Law Course of HBU, and hopefully, eventually signing his name in the list of practitioners after passing the licensure exam. He had his own troubles, his own stressors that Naminé had been forewarned years before she vowed to stick with Riku until forever ends. It was a stupid vow made by an even stupider girl. She had optimistically thought they'd survive the stress, that after the stupid exam they'll go back to how they were._

_It's two months before the scheduled exam and Naminé was the first to let go. She started crying again, possibly remembering the words thrown around the room as she left. She never heard Riku say anything, no hurtful words that would sting at her heart, but hearing nothing and being allowed to leave broke her more than anything Riku could say._

_Vanitas noticeably tensed, he had thought that it would be Riku that would end things, he never liked the ambition that lit up fires inside him. Riku was undoubtedly a great student, academic or extracurricular. He was one of those jack of all trades kind of guys, who despite his better judgment, had made his best friend happier than he'd seen her. It always seemed that Naminé was the chaser of the relationship, Riku being the settler. He must have never seen this break up coming, and it must have taken every bit of strength she had to walk away._

_"Somebody had to…" she mutters holding her warm mug between her hands, she finally stopped crying. "We were caving… and if we don't get out, we'd both get stuck."_

_Ventus nodded, quiet and speculative. He takes her hand in his and shows a look of sympathy. "You had to do it, don't blame yourself for seeing the broken parts early on."_

_"It… it just hurts so bad! I didn't want to leave him, Ven! We were just… so toxic together. I was afraid… of losing him, but it hurts to fight him… it hurts when we fight." She takes a deep shuddering breath and shakes her head. "I can see him hurting too, and I hate it… I hate that I can't help him. It was better for me to just leave."_

_"You left him at a time like this?"_

_Vanitas was as surprised as they were, with the question that fell out of his mouth. Never in his lifetime had he imagined defending Riku, that guy never needed to be fought for anyway. He was capable of standing up for himself, able to fight his battles… even losing ones like this. Vanitas should have left it alone, he was Naminé's best friend, he could even go so far as to say they were siblings, but she didn't act like the Naminé he grew up with._ _She would never have left Riku at a time like this, two months out from the biggest exam he's going to take. Riku had become restless, irritable and somewhat distant, he had been the coldest he's ever been, removed from everyone's life but not without reason. Isn't love supposed to see through those gelid winds and icicle to shroud everything else with even the flimsiest reason? Wasn't she the one that said they're going to be together forever?_

_"... was I…. Was I wrong to?" She whimpered, her watery eyes directed straight into those piercing amber eyes. "Shouldn't… I have done what I did, Vani?"_

_Ventus grasped her hand tightly and shook his head. He doesn't look to Vanitas, his only focus was over the crying girl on his side. "No. You did the right thing, you were both hurting. If neither of you walked away, there would be nothing left. You did the right thing, Naminé."_

_She hears him, the words that were meant to soothe her aching heart, but all she could see and feel is Vanitas's disappointment. His amber eyes closer to a glare than forlorn, he was mad, not at her but at both them and perhaps, a little with the guy that's coaxing her back to calmness._

_They wanted her to stay at the apartment, bare as it is, they haven't even properly moved in but they wanted her to feel safe. She refused, understandably, and left their empty apartment. Vanitas had locked the door, his face fuming with anger as he turned to Ventus still on the couch. His soft and gentle smile, already gone as he prepared for the imminent fight they were about to have._

_"Why did you have to say that!" He shouts, pissed. "She doesn't know what she's doing! They needed to work things out, not end it!"_

_"I had to say it, they were both hurting, Van. It's not right… they'll break each other if they hold onto it." He explains, hands folded on his lap. "If things aren't working anymore, it's better to leave it as is—"_

_"Tss. That's it? You’re giving up like that? When fucked up shit happens, you just up and leave?" He snorts, his tone condescending as he steps forward, glowering at Ventus's calmness. "If someone's pushing the one they love away do you really think they don't love them anymore? Is that it?!"_

_"It's not giving up! It's protecting what you value most! They're not pushing each other away, they're tearing each other apart!" He shouts back, a little unnerved and frustrated with how Vanitas had strung together these circumstances in such a bad light. "Why are you so affected by this, it's not our relationship!"_

_"What if it is?" He clicks his tongue and narrows his glare at him. "Would you just give up, would you leave me, Ventus?"_

_Ventus grits his teeth and nearly growls out his answer. "You're really asking me that? Between you and me, if one of us is going to leave first, it would be you!" He watched as Vanitas's anger faded, his expression dulled and paled, as they're both momentarily suspended in silence. Ventus draws his hand to his mouth, his eyes wide with guilt and distress. He gazes at him in apology. "Van… Vanitas, no. Please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I'm sorry—Van, please—"_

_Vanitas bites his lip, breathing heavy and uneven. He was furious. He wanted to punch a wall, break a table or destroy whatever his hands would touch. He wanted to hurt Ventus, as bad as how he'd been hurt, but he'd never allow himself to do anything to him._

_He'd hurt him enough._

**_It would be you_ ** _._

_"Telling me what you really think, huh." He turns away and heads for the balcony, the stinging words echoed in him endlessly. "Tch. Don't apologize for being honest."_

_He exits the room, somber. He didn't have a chance, it was the argument he'd always lose. He felt around his pocket for a pack and cursed under his breath when he realized it was his second month quitting the habit. It wasn't an easy habit to quit, but he tried, for Ventus he could at least try. He wanted to prove to him that he could change that it wasn't all what he feared it was… that things have changed and he would never for a second think about leaving him. He thought he'd done enough… but…_

**_It would be you_ ** _._

_Arms wrap around his waist from behind, he feels Ventus press his forehead on the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry, Vanitas. I'm sorry, it's not how I feel, please. It’s not true… I'm sorry, I was wrong to say that. I'm sorry… Yell at me, punch me, be mad at me... Please, I deserve it."_

_Vanitas didn't know what hurt the most: Ventus's insecurities, his fear that Vanitas never truly loved him enough to stay, or that Ventus could easily string words of blame solely to himself. He didn't deserve pain, he would never deserve any harm or injury. Vanitas wouldn't allow it. He loved him, tenderly as he could, soft enough to never see him break. He took back his words and understood why his eyes would linger over him, why he got greedy for his attention. Why he almost succumbed to bitterness only to be saved by the very person that caused it. Even after all the years they've spent together, Ventus was still so much more than he could ever imagine. Tears prick at his eyes, hearing his beloved's voice marred by insecurities, agonized by anxiety, he thought he'd banish all these monsters away—he loved Ventus so much, he didn't think it’s possible, or even allowed to love someone this much._

_"I would never leave you."_

_Ventus hiccups and tightens his hug. "I know." He places a soft kiss on the nape of his neck. "You wouldn't, of course you wouldn't. I was just… I was so angry and tired, you've hurt me so much before… and I know it doesn't matter now. I'm just…. I'm sorry."_

_He taps over the arms around his waist and slowly faces him. He sees the fresh trails of tears over his beautiful pink face, his watery icy blue eyes and bitten lips, Ventus pushes up with his toes and presses his lips against his. He cups his warm cheeks and pulls him down to deepen their kiss, eyes fluttering closed._

_Vanitas sighed into the kiss, forgiving and placate, and Ventus finally hums happily, content with where they were._

He broke out of his daze and fell to the floor. The blue light from before sunrise shines through the glass door of the balcony, and Vanitas discovers that he should have just taken the floor. He presses his fingers to his lips, the memory of the kiss plays around his mind, lingering just as much as the soft press of those plush lips on his. He runs the tips of his fingers over his lips, casually brushing away at the phantom touch. He blamed the fall for the tightness in his chest, as well as the cold shiver that envelopes him. It wasn't because he could still feel Ventus's gentle apologies wrap around him like an embrace, how his hug felt safe and warm. He slaps a hand to back of his neck, as if he could shoo away the feeling of Ventus's soft lips on his skin. 

Once he got his consciousness back to focus, his eyes flickered to the photo of them at the apartment, when it was bare and empty. Ventus had both his arms around his neck, his smile ear to ear, while Vanitas had a sincere closed lip smile as he snapped the photo. All he could see was Ventus. 

His icy blue eyes.

His smile. 

His rosy pink cheeks.

Ventus was happy.

He takes a deep breath, remembering the words he's said. The one that had Ventus hugging him like he could vanish at any moment. He hears it bounce around and reverberate in his mind, it was soft yet stern, short but enough, it carried his feelings for him and like an oath, he would never break it. 

_I would never leave you._

———

Vanitas walked into a pristine white Doctor's office, a small hand sewn doll with a bigger, rounder head with his yellow eyes and messy black hair sat on one of the client chairs. He rolled his eyes and shrugged, he missed all of his check ups with Naminé since he got out, and right now was officially their first time seeing each other after the accident. He grabs the poorly made doll on the chair and takes his seat. Naminé harrumphs in her chair and swivels away. 

"Brat." He said flatly. "I was busy with work. You should be happy I'm integrating so well, I didn't need to come back." 

She turns her chair with a glare. "That's not how a check up works!! You got into a car accident! If you weren't such an indestructible bonehead I would've actually been worried!" She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. Vanitas is a strong person, he could get into fights and literally survive through anything, but deep down she can't help but worry about him. There was a reckless bravery in him that frustrated her, since they were kids. And as they grew up, vexed her so much more because she's a medical practitioner and her best friend wouldn't even follow through on a simple check up. "You do know that I'm a doctor, right? You're supposed to support me on this."

"I do support you, look." Mini-Vanitas, in Vanitas's hand, did a wave (he just squeezed the body) and he cackled at her deadpan look. "Seriously, what the fuck is this?"

Naminé groans and puts her hand out, asking for the doll. He handed it to her, amused. She groaned and frowned at the doll, her lips pursed to a pout. She nudged the small jacket it had on and the black ‘legs/pants’ it wore, she was very proud of her work but the model of the doll could say otherwise. 

“Told you it’ll be creepy.” 

She smirks. “Then it’s perfect, true to the original.”

“I walked into that one.” He said, resigned, his lips upturned to a half-smile. 

“Damn right, you did.” 

She takes a deep breath and gathers the paperwork in her hands. There was supposed to be a protocol on how to deal with out patients that pose certain _issues_ that require medical or psychological attention, but Vanits being who he is, would probably half-ass the answers and leave Naminé more frustrated than just asking him straight out. The items from the checklist were menial updating questions, he'd definitely have a laugh trying to frustrate her in any way. She's done these for over a hundred times, it all boils down to only one thought that encapsulates most, if not all, the questions: have you recovered enough to exculpate the hospital from charges? She could certainly gauge that in a talk between two friends. She puts mini-Vanitas down on her desk and turns to the smug cretin across from her. 

“I’m glad you’re reintegrating well, looks like you found your memories after all.” 

"Some of them."

She nods in acknowledgment. "Good, that's very good!"

Vanitas pauses, he stares at her, hesitant. He had flashes of scenes and some stabs of memories on his head, as if they were put back into place like a puzzle. He'd recovered enough of his functionality, gaining back his skill for work at a rapid pace; he's remembered how he was dragged by Sora to take the Associate position with him; and then, there was the convoluted mess with Roxas. 

“Did I like Roxas?" She nearly choked on her spit. Nervously, she eyes his blank face, waiting for some form of recognition she could latch on. There was so much to say, so much baggage to unload in that question. It was nowhere near 'yes' or 'no'. She could tell him what happened, but it wouldn't be right. It's not something that he should _ask_ about. 

Instead, she leans back on her chair, hands folded on her desk, "Do you remember liking Roxas?"

"That's why I'm asking." He groans, slightly annoyed at the runaround. She must've known what he was talking about. She knew about his and Ventus’s intimate moments, certainly she knew about everything. He taps fingers on his arms, impatient. "You know what I'm talking about, just tell me."

"It's not something you ask about." She frowns. "On a medical perspective, as well as psychological, you need to retrace your memories yourself or else it wouldn't matter. Think about it, you said 'some' memories came back, during those times did you ever doubt that they were memories, or did you think they could just be some daydream you had? No, it's the neuron signals working its way through the triggers. In the same way the nervous system signals your body to move on impulse, your neurons would also send signals to your brain whenever a trigger is apparent." 

He stills at his seat. Arms still crossed over his chest, brows knit together as he absorbed the explanation. A minute later he sighs out, exasperated and shrugged. There were no shortcuts—was what she was saying. He couldn't ask anyone about it, or else it would impede his memory recovery, he just has to deal with the retrace himself. She was right about the memories he's recovered, he never doubted them to be his memories because they left him with lingering sensations, phantoms of the feelings he felt during every returning memory. It was the truth, so when he felt the guilt slam against him in his memory of Roxas, then it must also be true. He was a _terrible_ person. 

"Don't misunderstand, it's not that I'm disallowing you from asking people around you, but there are just some memories you have to retrace by yourself, okay?" 

He nodded and waved his hand to dismiss her worry. "Yeah, yeah. Muscle memory, got it." He sank lower in his seat, he still had time left with the check up, and if the Roxas memory was forbidden, perhaps another would be more appropriate. A memory that recently returned and a fight that echoed through his head since it came. 

"How are you and Ven doing?" She prods, a devious smile on her face. She cupped her face with her propped up hands, her brow wiggling suggestively. "It's so refreshing not having you talk about Ven all the time, I got to say." 

He scrunched his nose and ignored the taunt posed as a question. If she wanted to play at that game, then he had the perfect ammo. He smirks and raises a brow at her unassuming look. 

_She thinks she's won, huh?_

"I know about you and Riku. How you broke up." She blinked. Twice. Thrice. So many times that he thought she would float over her seat. She mumbled curses in between her soft whines of discomfort and strangled Mini-Vanitas in her hands. She directed a kicked puppy look over to him—of course, it didn't work; Vanitas only waved his hand for her to 'get on with it'. 

She groans. "Sora introduced—"

"You loved him, right?" He interjects, cutting off another attempt to beat around the break-up issue. She pouted and threw the small plush at him. He caught it with ease and tilted his head for her to continue. 

She takes a deep breath and eyed him with a look that pleads for him to keep calm. He mirrors her stance and nods for her to continue.

"We had different priorities. Different paths, we were meant to walk on. Sure, at one point we had the same path, but somewhere along the lines, he needed to go left and I had to keep going forward. Riku was focused on his career, I was in my residency for a city operated hospital. My hours were terrible, my patients would always come first, and us… _us, o_ r whatever remained of it?it didn’t survive. We just thought that we should focus on ourselves, we thought it would be okay to put our relationship as second… or fourth priority, but… one day we both woke up and we just hated it."

"One day?" He repeats in disbelief. "You just woke up and realized you didn't love him anymore?"

"No! Of course not! I love Riku!" She gripped the armrest of her seat and reigned her emotions back behind her calm demeanor. "I would never stop having feelings for him, I'd always love him… but breaking up was the right thing to do. I still love him, Vani, but it's because I love him that I needed to break it off."

"That doesn't make sense." He scoffs.

She chuckles. "Hmm… you said the exact same thing when you found out. I guess some things never change."

He keeps his quiet, his thoughts already back to the memory in his head. She said the exact same thing too, this was where she stood, what she believed needed to happen for them to 'work out'. Whether it be today or somewhere in the past, it was clear that Naminé didn't regret her decision. It wasn't a question of being in love, but an aspect of sacrifice for that same love. They were both busy and their relationship took a backseat to everything else. The love they have never changed, it never wavered, they both were just incredibly tired. She had cried too much, and if Riku truly loved her, he would never stop her from doing what she thought she needed. Even if it was going to break them up. 

"You asked me about Roxas." She averts the topic and catches his interest. "Must be one heck of a memory."

He nodded. "It was. How come I don't remember him?"

"He was a transfer. In our second year." The cheer in her voice all but dissipates, yet she keeps up her front. "Roxas… let's just say… he is… a… hmm... a very charming person to… _everyone_ in your class." 

"You mean Sora." 

Vanitas has been hitting her deception at its weakest parts since the talk started, and he knew damn well what he was doing. She was puffing her cheeks like a blowfish, clearly disgruntled about how she's going to handle his perceptiveness. She wanted him to figure things out himself, to not rush his memory, but if he continues looking through her facade, she's going to end up blabbing. She couldn't allow it to happen, right after she made a profound decision to let him get his life on track by himself. 

" _Why_ do you have to be such a smartass!" 

She stands up from her desk and walks over to the empty client chair in front of him. She grins, puts a piece of paper in front of him and asks him to set his signature over the document entitled 'Mandatory Mental Faculty Evaluation'. He rolled his eyes and signs. He spots the clock and sees a couple more minutes before the next patient arrives, but he assumed he was going to get kicked out with the way she directed her 'you're so unfair' pout at him. She grabs his forearm and drags him towards the exit.

_Ah… I knew it._

"Thank you for seeing me today, Vanitas, but I believe our time is up. Please, hesitate to come back or call, if you have other issues not involving your health." She holds the door open, her smile a tiny bit murderous. 

He scoffs and shakes his head, completely and utterly amused. He may be stuck in a maze, but it doesn't mean he couldn't laugh or find joy in the misery of those that watched him from above it. There was meaning to their approach, they all know that he wasn't the type to believe what was just said to him as gospel. 

"Vani." He looks at her. "You know, you've been in here to talk about everyone… _everyone_ but the one person you should be concerned about."

"... He's alright. We’re great. So great." 

_Liar. You can’t even last five seconds in conversation with him._

He stammers, he wanted to say that Ventus had started acting strange since the time he brought Sora and Roxas over, but he can't really say that it was weird, since he's always too preoccupied with making sense of the confounding memory that rooted deep into his consciousness. It weighed him down, slashed at his inside until he couldn't move. All that was left was a feeling of antipathy for himself and what he did. From then on, their eyes never met longer than five seconds, their conversations were clipped and short, bereft of any other feeling other than hurt. 

It made him miss Jumpy Ventus on the first day of his amnesia, or Shy Ventus that stutters as he spoke and blushed at skin contact, hell, he'd even take Snarky Ventus from his teenaged memories, than spend another day being iced out like this. Ventus's defeated and mournful eyes' unnerved him, it chains him in silence, unable to do more than quietly watch as Ventus goes about his life. He couldn't explain what clawed its way to his psyche, but all knew was that it had to stop. He wanted the awkward, yet bearable, reception back. The one they had prior to the bombshell that was Roxas. He wanted to talk to Ventus. If that was too much then, just be _seen_ by him again.

_He did… last night, but…_

Even after getting what he _thought_ he wanted, every single cell in his body rejected it. Ventus was really too nice, much _much_ too nice. He may have wanted a second chance and he may have gotten it, but it doesn't mean he deserves it. _When I get my memories of him, sure… because right now… it's just fucked up._ Besides, could he even make amends for the terrible, horrible and unforgivable things he _may_ have done— _like maybe cheating on him with his brother._ He wasn't sure of the timeline of things, if he dated Roxas before Ventus or at the same time. It doesn't change that after that memory all he felt was the shearing heat of white hot embarrassment every time Ventus so much as glanced at him.

“Vanitas?” 

He stares at his limp hand, much like the rest of himself, barely having a grip on anything. "I hurt him a lot, didn't I?" 

She lowers her head. "Yes. You did."

"I see." He attempts to head out.

"Word of advice." She puts a hand on his shoulder. "Ven is a lot stronger than you think. He loves you more than the hurt you've done. So please take care of him. I'm not asking you to fall in love with him, if you don't feel anything, but Ven deserves comfort too."

_"A part of me died when you lost those five years!"_

"What would 23 year old Vanitas do, when Ventus is mad at him?" He tries to keep his voice disinterested, complete with a tone of fake annoyance. "I… I just… you know, I'm out of ideas…"

She snickered. "Are you sure you wanna know, you might be too _young_ for it." She says with absolute amusement. 

"... S-Shut up." He averts his surprised look away, turning them to the hallway outside and then back at her. The words 'can I go now' plain on his face as the pink shade on his cheeks. 

"I believe, in your words, it's 'apolojizz'."

_Ugh. When did I become such a loser?_

———

Vanitas took her words to heart—the more serious ones, not the make-up fuck. He wasn't the only one suffering from his memory gap, Ventus was dealing with it in his own way, but unlike himself, Ventus could be a bonehead when it came to dealing with misery. He only saw a glimpse of it, a preview of how his head works when things go south. He didn't mind much of it at first, but when Naminé voiced out her worries, he wasn't going to take chances. In his vulnerable state he begged to be 'hurt' right back because he thought he deserved to be hurt. He doesn't know from where this mindset came, but wherever it came from, it was disgusting. It would be a cold day in hell, if he's not going to do something about it. 

Hence, taking advantage of the weekend, Ventus's early morning returns and his newly discovered talent in the kitchen, he sets his plan to action. Insomnia kept him up, he would usually have scoured the albums for more triggers, but it’s been nearly a month and his progress was still erratic. Even in his recovery, he could count on himself to be a dick. The process was completely arbitrary, triggers were so random that he decided that his time would be better spent making things right with a certain blonde roommate. 

It was about 10PM when Ventus snuck away from the bedroom, headed for the doorway with the lightest steps. The living room was dark and the hallways were only bathed in moonlight from the balcony door. He wouldn’t have noticed him, had he not been waiting for this exact moment to get up from the couch and step into the kitchen. It was like a reflex, the moment he opened the cupboards and pantry, he knew exactly what he’s going to make for later. Perhaps it was Present/Future Vanitas finally throwing him a bone, or maybe because in one of the albums he saw Ventus pose with some jiggly looking pancakes. He could pinpoint the actual confection some other time, as of the moment he needed to know if he could make one.

Eighteen tries later and Vanitas was ready to throw the entire kitchen outside the balcony. Another memory made a resurgence while he failed at some gruesome hateful blobs, Ventus was _a lot_ better at this baking shit. Sure, the recipe called for a pan, but it clearly said ‘steam with little water’, which is code for ‘bake on pan’. _Ugh, this stupid shit._ The kitchen was a mess of gloopy flour and cut up cooking sheets, and sprinkles of white powdery ingredients everywhere. Ventus could have caught him and he wouldn’t have seen him with all the flour-fog around him. 

The time on his phone was past 2AM, if he wasn’t getting it by now, he’d never get it in thirty minutes. He needed the time to clean up the mess and make sure their kitchen was virtually spotless, untouched and undetected by anyone that may come in. It wasn’t limited to Ventus, it could be anyone, he needed to hide the pieces of evidence that tell the sad story of man versus cake, and the cake won. 

_Ventus wouldn’t let me live it down._ He chuckles, washing the pan, bowls and whisks he’s used. He washes the dishes with a scowl, his head still calculating where he went wrong and what could be done to fix things. He wasn’t about to completely accept defeat, he just needed a break and it was right on time for when Ventus would return. He dried off the tools and placed them back where they were stored, in exactly the time he set aside, he was able to leave that kitchen like he never stepped foot in it. 

His exhaustion, however, can’t be hidden. He falls, face first, with a solid ‘thump’ on the couch. His back hurt and his arms were on fire. The recipe called for soft peaks for the egg whites and he couldn’t find their hand mixer, he should’ve just called it a sign and went for something else for the surprise later. _No, I just need a minute._ He’s still determined to make those annoying jiggly cakes of hell, he just needs a new strategy, because clearly going by it on estimated handfuls wasn't working. 

The front door opens and for the first time since Ventus started going on his midnight strolls, Vanitas didn’t need to pretend to be asleep.   
  


He woke up with a blanket over him, tucked between two pillows bigger than the throw pillows he’s settled with. He reached for his vibrating phone, it’s robotic voice screaming ‘it’s five-forty-one’ like a bomb detonated. He shuts it off and throws it to who knows where. It’s been a month of itchy small pillows, he’s forgotten how good it was to sleep on something that actually fits his head. It was Saturday anyway, he could... he most definitely could not sleep in. He cursed under his breath and slithered away from the warm soft embrace of his makeshift bed, slamming all of existence for his stupid breakfast surprise plan. 

He wasn’t even sure that Ventus would like it.

_I’ll make him like it. He better like it._

It was an hour and he, himself, doesn’t like it. He could perfect the soft fairy taste, but the cake would get too flat before Ventus would wake up, if it’s thick... it’s not airy or light. There was something wrong with how he was making these stupid cakes, he just needed to figure it out. He tried to be as quiet as he could, when he started, but one flop to the next flop happened, he was already grunting and groaning at the (intimidated) inanimate objects in the kitchen. Eventually, he got a batch right and managed to plate them decently on a clean plate, he added a small square of butter for each of the fluffy cakes and was about to grab the obvious choice of honey, when he noticed that perhaps whipped cream and cinnamon would go better. He shakes some cinnamon powder on top and sets it over the clean(er) side of the kitchen. 

The time was a quarter before nine, he still had enough time to set their coffee maker to brew. He takes a mug for himself and is about to make Ventus his own, when he hears a rustle of life come from the bedroom. Some yawns and groans, unwillingness to wake up on a weekend, signs that his surprise was about to be foiled. He leaves the mugs on the counter and takes the prepared plate to their room. 

Ventus was blob of in the bed, his entire body wrapped snugly under the covers, the only signs of life was his soft high pitched whine. Vanitas pressed his lips together, the smile still stretched over his face. He closed the door with the lightest sound. Ventus stirred, his messy blonde hair poking out of the covers, his eyes barely alive and half-lidded. He yawns and goes back to his soft cat-like mewls, his eyes closing again.

“So Venty-Wenty wants to keep on sleeping,” he sits on the foot of the bed and sets the plate on his lap. “What am I ever going to do with you?” He yanks at the covers and almost immediately Ventus groaned at sudden temperature change. 

Blindly, he reaches for the covers and comes up empty handed. He sits up, one arm raised high above him in an involuntary stretch, while the other rubs at his blurry eyes. His nose detects the homey scent of cinnamon and freshly baked goods. Which... would mean, someone had set out food in the kitchen, his nose wiggles, trying to follow the scent.

“Would help if you just opened your eyes.” He chuckles at the sudden jolt of life that ran over him, his icy blue eyes more awake than ever, it shone with wonder, when their eyes met. In about five seconds after registering the sight, they turned dull as he lowered his head. He thrusts the plate to his open palms, obstructing Ventus’s intense one on one stare with his lap. 

“That’s for you.” He says, a little smug with his achievement. 

He stares at the perfectly plated pancake on his hands and raises his head to look at Vanitas. He had the worst case of bed hair, his cheeks still puffy and marked with the folds of his pillow and his mouth was set to a confused pout. His white shirt hung over him loosely, his pale neck and left shoulder exposed as he stared dumbly at Vanitas. He bites his lower lip and lowered his view back to the plate of fluffy cakes on his lap. 

“Hmm... they look perfect.” He mumbles, shaking the plate. His eyes sparkle at the jiggly action. He smiles at him, weightless and hopeful. “Did you make these for me?”

“N-No!” It was like being shot, in all five senses. He planned out this surprise for Ventus, he had it all mapped out in his head... but for what reason? It took hours to perfect the stupid cakes, and now that they were perfectly jiggly, making his Ventus smile, his surprise would be ruined because his mouth currently hasn’t gotten the memo. The denial that shoots past his lips was so automatic that he nearly banged his head on the nearest wall. “I... I mean, yes. I made them... but uh.... it’s not just for you... uh, I always wanted to make them. I woke up early and... since you’re still asleep, I was just bored.”

“Oh?” Ventus blinked and hummed. “But you hate pancakes.” 

“I do?” _No wonder it was like a trip to hell making them._ “But you don’t.”

“That’s right.” He grins, completely awake and unbelievably happy. “They’re my favorite. You even got the whipped cream and cinnamon!” He raised the plate for emphasis and titled his head in inquiry. “How did you know?”

He would have carelessly answered that he didn’t. Plain and simple. But there was something about the gleam in his eyes, the pinch of his smile and... for the love of all that is holy, he couldn’t stop staring at the oversized shirt that obviously wore Ventus like a twig. It didn’t help that all he could properly see as he innocently munches on the cakes were the movement his lips. He forgot when he left the conversation, if he was there at all, and flew into the deep recesses of his mind to watch him lick whipped cream off his fingers. He finishes a piece with a grateful moan, his tongue swiping across his lips to clean the stray cream that stuck to his face. It was his fingers again, wiping off the cream that his tongue couldn’t reach, sucking both fingers with an audible pop.

Vanitas stifled his groan and gulped, the swirling feeling on his chest traveling lower to his stomach. He’s never been thankful for sweatpants in his life, if he wore anything in his wardrobe and watched him ‘eat’, he would have definitely been in pain by now. Then again, getting aroused by the sight of him gorging on some pancakes says a lot about his hormonal teenage consciousness. _But, oh fucking god, those fuckable lips,_ in a split second, he imagined having it wrapped around his hard cock—he cuts the thought off, noticing his throat dry and his hands shake with unknown trepidation. Did he just get turned on by Ventus eating a slapjack?! 

He was about to reach for another cake on his plate, and repeat all of his finger sucking and tongues swiping at white cream scenery, when Vanitas turned away, albeit reluctantly. He heaves shallow breaths and swallows his spit in an attempt to calm the rapid beating on his chest. He needed to breathe, he needed air. Since when did Ventus set him off like this? 

_No.... it can’t be.... it’s just stupid hormones. Yeah, it’s... definitely hormones..._

The mantra repeats in his head, as if his internal dialogue held together the very essence of his sanity. He needed to believe tightness in his pants weren’t because of the sight of those plush lips covered in cream, nor was it his pink cheeks stained red with cheer and neither was it the way he sensually moans after every bite. Nope. He would never admit that he could easily jack off to that orgasmic face Ventus was making. _Did his fucking shirt fall off his shoulder, fuck._ The white shirt he wore originally fell over his figure like a sheet, his collarbones showing as well as his slightly defined pectorals, it hung dangerously close to falling off his shoulder entirely—that was a pancake ago, and now, the oversized collar fell off to his elbow. Vanitas was seriously rethinking his life decisions and why the fuck can’t his memories comeback so he doesn’t have to feel weird ogling his own boyfriend like this. 

“Vanitas? You haven’t said anything in awhile, are you okay?” Ventus set aside the clean plate over the side table, and crawled towards him. Vanitas thought his soul jumped out of his body... of course, it wasn’t his soul, but his entire body however... He had himself pressed to the cold wall just beside the bed, face bright red like a blaring stoplight. Ventus pressed his lips to a line, his eyes flickering from his lower stance up to him. He sits on his heels, the shirt barely able to cover him, his cream-like legs exposed from the covers. Everything about him had Vanitas gasping for air, it was humanly impossible to settle the tumbles, flips and swirls in his stomach, and even as he tried to focus on his innocent grin, Vanitas knew he’s going to be in for a cold shower after. 

“What’s wrong?” Ventus chuckles. “I’m not gonna bite.”

_Oh, fuck, please do. Fucking bite me._

_Shit. That’s not what he meant, fuck. Fuck. Fuck you, horny teenage Vanitas. Fuck you._

“Uh... N-nothing.” He sucked in a breath and swallowed, his surprise wasn’t supposed to spiral like this, he had a point going into this room. Something about Ventus, about his midnight strolls... his fucked up memories, he grasps at straws and eventually he realized that his mental block is technically caused by that stupid loose shirt that barely functioned as a shirt. He pulled the covers of the bed and tossed it over Ventus with a satisfied grunt. Seeing all that skin, his exposed neck and parted lips, it would be a miracle if his mind could string more than two words together. Hence, step one, eliminate the distraction—rather, cover Ventus with the comforter, push him face first to the mattress and sit on his back.

“Ugh... Vanitas! W-what was that for?” He struggles under the weight over him. “Hey! Lemme go!”

“I will. I just need to say something... and you’re... er your... face is distracting.” 

Ventus laughs and struggles under the blanket, he kicks his feet and wiggles his arms but Vanitas sitting on his back is enough weight to keep him down. “That’s what you wanna hear.”

“Shut up, it’s not like you’re ugly or shit.” He paused, Ventus under him stopped struggling and he knew that he’s messing this up all over again. “You’re not! You’re the opposite of ugly, you’re decent looking!”

_Wow. On a roll there, huh, dumbass?_

He hears a drawn out sigh from underneath him. He pulled the blanket and covered his head. It was like seeing the doors and windows he’s opened close on his face with a huge slam. Vanitas groans out and falls on the bed, keeping Ventus in place. He doesn’t move or speak, the only indication that he was still listening was the slight peek he did from under the blanket. Vanitas meets his eyes halfway and groans again. 

“Look, we can't keep tiptoeing around each other like this, it's exhausting. We need to be able to talk about things or just talk.” Ventus pulls the blanket away from his face, their eyes meeting. “I know you’re shutting me out. I don’t blame you. You don’t have to forgive me, just.... just don’t shut me out anymore.”

“I wasn’t.” He smiled in a way to assuage him. “Or... I wasn’t trying to, it just became that way. I guess you could say that I always thought I got lucky, you were a once in a lifetime love, perhaps that lifetime is over and...”

Vanitas swung his legs to the side, laying down next to him, his body stretched outside the blanket while Ventus kept his entire body curled under. He stares at his worried blue eyes and frowns, “I don’t have much memories of us, but even I haven’t given up.” He laughed as he poked his forehead with a disapproving ‘tsk’. “Maybe you don’t remember, but I don’t lose.”

He forced a smile away from his face, but his cheeks were still tensing up and his face was tinting pink. He pulled the covers again, shielding his face from view. He slipped under the covers, letting himself fall to the floor and quickly retreating to the connected bathroom. Vanitas called out his name but it only made him run faster. A moment later and he opens the bathroom door, fresh and bright eyed; while Vanitas waited for him, sat cross legged on the bed, he offered him his best apologetic kicked puppy look and asked if he said something wrong again. 

“No, you didn’t.” He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. “I... thank you, I needed that.”

He smiles, finally able to do something right, it was a fine line too. One mistake and Ventus may have come out there ready to leave their home. It was hard to put thoughts into words, he didn’t think he’d ever have a problem with language. It was his job, after all, but in front of Ventus, he’s nine-out-of-ten in the red and dangerously close to being a dick.

“I really fucking hope I get better at this feelings crap.” 

“Hmm… you will.” He mumbles, completely red. “Trust me, I've seen your future.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was high time for Vanitas to take matters into his own hands. His memory trace hinges on the last pieces of his memory, and the only person he's so desperate to recall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I would like to remind everyone that this chapter and those succeeding will contain graphic sexual depictions and scenes that tackle depression and self-harm. 
> 
> This chapter is long for my usual chapters, but it sheds some light into Sora/Roxas, Vanitas/Roxas and Vanitas/Ventus. I wanted to chop it in two, but it didn't really work. So word vomit.

The days were calmer after their talk. It returned to how they were before he brought Roxas and Sora into their apartment and before the midnight lone walks Ventus took. It wasn’t truly ‘normal’, but it was a start. Ventus would greet and talk with him, and he’d do the same. They even cooked dinner together one time and Vanitas only managed to get ticked off thrice. The Ventus from his memories was someone that no longer exists, the loudmouth that was always the center of attention, the boy that would longingly gaze at him when he thought Vanitas didn’t notice. That boy was gone. There was only _this_ Ventus, the calmer, quieter and more radiant Ventus. 

He was patient but he stood his ground, he was reasonable but emotional. He didn’t need everyone’s attention to feel validated, he exudes it. The one thing that Ventus from before never had: confidence, a sense of self. 

“Ventus, what do you want for breakfast?” He shouts at the locked bathroom door. He hears the shower turn off and a sound of sliding around and yelps. The door opens barely, showing matted wet blonde hair over Ventus’s blue eyes, his pink cheeks rosy with the heat of the shower; Ventus smiles at him with a playful grin. “I can’t read thoughts.”

“Mhm… we do have some bread in the fridge. How about french toast?” He suggests with a tone that Vanitas can’t comprehend enough, but it made him smile back. Ven turns redder and shuts the door on his face. “Uh… Y-yeah…I mean anything is fine! I’ll join you after!” 

Vanitas chuckles and yells back, “or I could join you instead?” 

He was sure he heard Ven slip from behind the door. 

In a way, he figured, he liked teasing Ventus. He never really got to know him past his exterior, but Ventus was someone with bright blinking neon lights that said ‘make fun of me, please’. He gives himself away too much, too often that it becomes a highlight of Vanitas’s day to spend an hour or half of his mornings making Ven flush red and panic over him.

“Vanitas!” Ven yells out with an accompanying groan. 

A wide smile plays over his lips. He remembers the words of advice, the continuous reminder that he is… very _fond_ of Ven, and how stubbornly he denied all of it. It was infuriating to be told what to feel, a different kind of psychosis to be told one thing and then feel the another. He doubted everything and doubted all else that could be remotely close to what he felt. Then, one day, Ven stopped talking to him and it seemed like every part of his body cried out. Maybe, Present/Future Vanitas cried out too. Both of them wanted Ventus back, both of them would have done anything to get Ventus to just look at them. It was a shared want, the first time he felt like himself and Present/Future Vanitas were actually the same person. 

His memories have slowly returned to him, most of his graduation year and how he, Sora and Roxas figured into their workplace together. Mostly everything in his head had pieced together except for one person. The memory of Fountain Square, of Ventus and his cryptic lonely smile, and the whirlwind of petals that circled him, was still an enigma. It was pinned and possibly engraved to the forefront of his mind. The image won’t leave him and as the only memory of Ventus that he had, a part of him didn't want it to. Although he didn’t understand it’s significance, his heart told him it’s the key to piecing together his most important memory of Ventus. 

But every time he tried to peer further in the memory, it would seem as if it’s something he’s imagined, and asking Ventus about it would definitely be a bad idea. They have started discussing his memories, those that came back and those that he’s still missing, but often Ven only obliges if Vanitas was in a good mood. As his mood easily sours whenever he gets combo’ed by consecutive photos he can’t accurately place in his head. 

He finishes with the french toast and places them on a plate, dusting them with cinnamon and some syrup. If he was being honest, his sweet tooth was probably well satiated by just the plate of sugar and toast, but something told him to cut up some of the strawberries and toss some fresh blueberries over the plate. 

“French toast.” He said and set the plate down in front of Ventus. Ventus eyed him with a look of shock and then calmly took a blueberry and popped it in his mouth. Vanitas didn’t need him to speak to know what had gone on his pretty little head. “Lucky guess. No, I don’t remember that they were your favourites.” 

The pout on Ven’s face mirrors a kicked puppy, and keeps it on despite gorging on the sweet breakfast before him, directly under Vanitas’s close scrutiny. It was crazy to think that a couple of months ago, he believed that he couldn’t stand the very person under his gaze; that he’d rather crawl to Sora’s living room and stay there, than be stuck in an apartment with Ventus. He couldn’t say that he felt the same as Present/Future Vanitas, but he felt something… and that was progress. 

He takes his fork from the table setting, his plate completely empty and takes a slice of bread from Ven’s. The blonde’s face broke into a whine, his fork shoving away at Vanitas’s, he mumbled ‘get your own’ or groans out Vanitas’s name, or both altogether. While Vanitas had smirked at the response and engaged in a fork-fight for a slice of toast. 

Everything had been going well, a calm start to a Monday, and then Ventus actually lost to him at the game of forks. He chucks the slice of victory into his mouth and immediately regrets it. 

_“Why?! You don't get it! It's not that easy!”_

_“I never said it was, Ven! I know it's hard, and I would never tell you what to do, but this is for you too.” he fixes his trench coat on, obviously rushed and irritated that they're having this out just before he leaves for work. "You can't stay mad at him forever."_

_“Ha. So that's what this is all really about, huh, this isn't about me at all is it?! It's about Roxas! It's always about Roxas!” Ven ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at its ends. His cheeks were stained with a trail of tears, his lips bitten with blood. “Did you ever forget about him?”_

_“Ventus.” He walked closer to Ventus's shaking form and tried pulling him into a hug, but he was pushed away. Vanitas watched in solemn silence while Ven heaved his breaths, breaking his heart every time Ven wiped tears away from his face. He didn't like watching Ven suffer, didn't like being powerless when he does, but he respects the decision he makes. Even stupid ones like this. The only thing he could do is reassure him that whatever he's thinking about, the anxiety he’s drowning in, doesn’t exist._

_"Answer me!"_

_“This isn’t about him.” Vanitas eased his way back to where Ventus stood. He reached out to his elbows, sliding his fingers up to his wet hands, gently taking a hold of both of them. He pulls them to his lips and presses soft kisses over them, Ven's laboured breaths fades out. His tear filled hands cupped Vanitas's face. “I know we both hurt you, I know that it's impossible for you to trust me after everything I did—“_

_“I knew it. You never forgot, did you?” He says with tears falling down his face. “Why can’t you just… just let him go?”_

_It was too much to ask, Roxas wasn’t just a person he could erase, being with him… if it can even be called that, brought up a lot on the surface. He can’t just forget him like it never really happened. Him remembering Roxas doesn’t mean he loves Ven any less._

_“I can't just forget him, Ven. It doesn’t work like that.”_

_“You're right, Vanitas. I can't… I can't trust you at all.” Ven hiccups his words, pushing his lament to his only vision, turning away from him. “This was impossible in the first place… you could never… would never…”_

_“What… I could never what?” He rams his fist to the wall. “Would you stop getting inside your head and tell me!?” Ventus doesn’t move, he doesn’t look up from his view of the floor. This fight has always struck him harder than any fight they would have. It hit closer to where his insecurities laid and Vanitas knew it._

_“Just leave. Leave me alone, Vanitas.”_

_He checks his phone for the time, his screen already displays a number of missed calls and unread messages. The Office was handling a big case today and more of the groundwork was done by him, it was integral that he gets there on time or else they might as well forfeit the trial. Calming Ventus is the most important thing to him, but he’s needed elsewhere too. The choice was obvious, if his decision is the only one to make._

_“I would never leave you.” He drops his bag on the floor and reaches out to touch him. ”Listen—”_

_Ven shakes his head and moves away. “Please. Leave.”_

  
  
  


_How many times have they fought over the same thing and same person; no matter how many times the past gets thrown about, in the end, both of them would be broken up by it. Vanitas hated leaving that morning. He hated losing to an emotion that had eaten his beloved’s sanity. He hated it more because he’s the one that made it worse. He’s supposed to love Ventus for as long as he can, and as much as he can, and no matter what problems or fights they go through, he would never give up on him. That even as Ventus, himself, begged him to stop loving him, he’d still fight for them._

_He should have never left their apartment._

_Barely arriving at his parking slot, he shifts the gears back to first and hurries home. The phone rings. It was Sora. He's probably asking why he left so fast. The trial would start in a couple of minutes. Another message. Another call. It was Roxas. Roxas… should he really forget everything about him? He's passing green light after green light. Empty streets and speeding across empty pedestrian lines. It was the last light, before he made the entryway to their apartment. Green. He turns right. Wait, why is there another car on his lane. Slow down, asshole. It’s not your lane—shit! Shitshitshit. Fuck._

_Shouts. Sirens. Darkness._

  
  


When Vanitas opened his eyes he was staring into icy blue eyes that bled with worry. Ven’s naturally fair face was blotched pink and red, while trails of tears show on his cheeks. He felt himself carried over Ven’s lap, his arm under and over him into a protective hug. Ven sat on the floor, while he laid over it, his upper body cradled in his arms. He leaned over Ven’s chest, hearing sounds of erratic thundering echo as the progression of how he got on Ven’s lap and on the floor completely flew over his head. 

All he remembered was the rawness of the crash. He felt bile rise up from his throat, the sugary sweetness of cinnamon and toast turned sour and acidic. He wretches and pulls himself from the comfort of Ven’s arms, throwing himself up, his hand covering his mouth and the bile building behind his throat. He rushes away, desperately controlling his wobbling steps to get to the sink, and expelling bile from his insides over the stainless basin. Ven follows him from behind, edging close but never touching him.

“Vanitas…” Ven says softly, bracing himself for whatever reaction he would get, and rubs his back in small circular motions. “What happened, is it… your memory?” 

He wretches once more, throwing up clear liquid over the sink. He nods his head, “T-The… Crash.” He grips the countertop with his hands and expels more of the clear liquid. “... I remember… the crash—“he wretches some more but nothing comes out. His knees buckled and all that kept him upright was his locked arms. It wasn’t long until his grip slipped and he fell to the linoleum kitchen floor. 

Everything around him was spinning, like reverse vertigo, his view doubled while his head throbs with every beat of his erratic heart. He feels around to his side, his palm touching the cold floor. The cold hard floor kept him from floating. Then again, only half his body felt the ruler straight floor, his head down to his torso was, again, cushioned by Ven’s lap. For a second time that morning, he’s opened his eyes and saw worried blue eyes accompanied with a frown. 

“... I’m alright.” Vanitas whispers through the scratchy feeling over his throat.“... It’s just... the first time it came back to me.” 

Ven sighed in relief and pushed his stray black hairs away from his sweat-covered face. He smiles sadly, his blue eyes conflicted with grief and guilt. “I know we said that we have to be able to talk about things, especially about your memories returning, but… you don’t have to try so hard. I know that I… I’ve been pushy about it, but I never meant for it to hurt you like this.”

He could have said the same thing. “... Same to you.”

“I’m not as stubborn as you.” The corners of Ven’s mouth twitched upward. 

“... I know.” He chuckles weakly. “You’re much worse.”

Ven goes back to combing his black hair away from his face. While Vanitas laid in silence, processing the memories he remembered moments before the crash: the fight that left him bothered enough to rush back home and the reason for that same fight. He regretted letting Ven push him away, he never should have left. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have gotten into that accident; Present/Future Vanitas wouldn’t have disappeared, and Ven wouldn’t be… broken like this.

All he wanted was an uneventful Monday but apparently his memories had other plans. Although, one thing has been made sure, Roxas was somebody of his past and a cause of Ven’s insecurity. He wanted to know, he needed to know. But… every time Roxas’s name comes up in his head, a terrible sensation runs through his nerves. As if his body and blood had memories of their own connected to him; and, then, there’s how Ven’s face would fall at the mention of Roxas’s name. Was he ready to talk about it, would he be cheating his recovery, if he did?

“We fought that morning.” Ven starts and rhythmically runs his fingers through black hair. “It’s something stupid, it was so small… compared to what happened. I was forcing you to do something you didn’t want, and you were asking me to do something I didn’t want. It was a crazy misunderstanding.” 

He sniffs and works his words through his sobs. “It’s a stupid fight.” 

Vanitas found himself sitting up, pulling himself to the space beside Ven. He leans over, nudging the sniffling blonde with his shoulder. Ven shakes his head and pinches his cheeks to stop himself from crying.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you away. If only I’d known… and now…” Ven’s lips quivered, his eyes apologetic as they gleam with unshed tears. “Sorry. This is all my fault.”

“You shouldn’t.” Vanitas repeats, his voice low and calm. He wasn’t mad, he didn’t feel anything but a strange pang in his chest that reverberated throughout his body. He never liked how Ven blamed himself, it wasn’t his choice to make; it was himself that chose to be late and, again, chose to go back home. Whatever happened that day, if anyone was at fault, it would be that bastard counterflowing kid.

“And then… You came home and all I worried about was myself. If you’d still love me… if you’d remember—I forgot how terrible it must be for you, how painful the accident must have been! Dammit, I’m so sorry Van!” 

At the corner of his mind, an invisible voice yells. It yells and urges him to move, to lift his hand and cup Ven’s pink cheeks. It demanded him to stop him from crying. Was it because in some plane where Present/Future Vanitas exists, Ven crying was an absolute crime and Teenage Vanitas has sat there stupidly unable to do anything to make him stop. 

And, just as the voice urged, he lifts his hand and gently wipes away the tears from Ven’s face. “Stop. Don’t blame yourself. I’m alright, the accident happened, it’s nothing we could change.” He fights Ven’s reflex to look down and lifts his face by his chin to look him in the eye. He kept his hand over his face, the feeling of touching him without a shake or resistance was short of magical. He’d always felt that Ven was too nervous around him, too guarded, but as they are now, with his warm cheeks and red bitten lips. It was nice. “But I’m still here, I’m okay… So… Don't…” 

Ven stares at him and bites his lower lip. “W-What are you doing?”

He paused, catching himself leaning forward, closing their gap to a single inch. What the heck was he doing? He pulls away, sticking his arms beside him, his face flushed.

“Were you… are you going to kiss me?” 

_Yes._

“No. Uh… don’t you want me to?” His nervous tick of scratching the back of his head appears. Ven cocks his head to the side in disbelief, he glares at Vanitas like he’s opened a wound that would never ever heal. “Isn’t this something I would have done… something I’m supposed to do?”

Ven scoffs his mouth set to a frown. “Supposed to do? You think… you should kiss me because it's what you’re supposed to do?” He shakes his head, frustrated. He stands up and balls his hands to a fist. “Not like this Vanitas.”

He got up on his feet too, equally angered. “I was just trying to make you feel better for fuck’s sake! Every little thing has to be so fucking complicated with you!”

Why did he have to say that, they were getting along fine! It was all going so great and then he had to open his mouth and ruin everything. Then again, he wasn’t the one being frustrating! He was doing his part, didn’t Ven want to kiss him; didn’t he miss being in his arms; didn’t he miss being with his 'boyfriend' Vanitas? He promised he’d try harder, isn’t he doing what he just said by reacting however he thinks Present/Future Vanitas would?

“I… I don’t want you like this.” Ven says, weakly. He shifts his weight around his feet and frowns. “If you don’t mean your affections, then I don’t want it.” 

He grits his teeth and growls. “Fine! I don’t want to give you affection anyway!” 

The words fall out of him without control, like a force he couldn’t contend with. Immediately as Ven flinches at his volume, at the hurtful words he’s thrown, he felt like kicking himself to the afterlife. He’s gotten back bits and pieces, taken in some absent memories into analytical consideration of could-have-beens, yet there’s only so much he could get by when it involves himself and Ven. Although, it didn’t require him to remember to know how awful it must have been for Ven to hear those words from the person that was supposed to be in love with him. How difficult it must be to have to see the face of someone he’s longed to kiss and smother with affection and be confused when it speaks up with a stranger’s voice. 

Ven takes one long look at him, despondent as he goes back inside the bedroom. 

It feels as though they’re going in circles. Every bit of progress they’ve made, every little piece of repose they found after the accident and the amnesia was short lived. It was one step forward and a huge jump back. If this was how they’re going to be, how they talked things out—shouting and walking out on each other—it was a miracle that they’ve stayed together for so long. At least, back in their teenage years, the lines were clear. He didn’t have to guess and act like he should or shouldn’t be in love with Ven. It was simple: Vanitas didn’t like Ven, and Ven would be his annoyingly loud self, easy to hate and easy to forget. But now, Ven was different, the air about him was different. He was quieter and more introverted, he felt things strongly from the inside and he never boasts unnecessarily. How could he be so different from the Ventus he remembered? 

Perhaps, Ven wasn’t the only one different. He, too, had changed. He’s heard it a thousand times, he’s changed and has been in love with Ven for years. He’s supposed to be in love with him.

In undying frustration, Vanitas groaned out and took his keys with him. He’s going to fill in the blanks of his memory, muscle memory be damned. In the recesses of his consciousness, he hears an echo of his thought, a cursed continuation to his driving force: _before I lose him all over again._

* * *

He met Sora in their college years. It was a shock to have met someone so detached from the world, yet so involved with everyone else. He’s talented and extremely perceptive, but chooses to hide behind a goofy laidback appearance. While he was the kind of person that looked on and never joined in, he wasn’t easily impressed with Sora like the rest of the student body, he had his own world and with it, his own perspectives. One that Sora desperately needed. Sora was a star and a model student from the first time he entered campus, everything was given to him like a golden child. So when he, someone from the outside that didn’t care about him and his reputation, appeared and showed him how far he’d lost his way, they became instant friends. 

Sora opens the front door. He looked as normal as he would, clad in his typical tank top and a jacket. There was no reason for both of them to dress up for work, it was a day after they won their first big case, they’re literally allowed to skip work. He stares quizzically over at Sora’s outfit and pushes the door to open wider. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Sora shook his head and yawned. “I just got back. I had to take Rox down to the airport. It’s his flight to Twilight Town today…—”he inspects him, covered in his pajama pants and over his old black undershirt. “Did you forget where you live; it’s five floors down, dude.” 

Vanitas rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Are you done?”

On a regular basis, he would have engaged and said his piece of snarky comment to counter Sora, but something had happened and he'd reached his breaking point. He wasn’t in the mood to play around. He’s been sitting on his ass doing nothing, waiting for his memories to come back like a good boy, but whoever said he’s anywhere near being ‘good’ probably met him wrong. Quite frankly, being good has given him nothing but agony befuddled into a clusterfucked timeline and he's had enough of it. 

“Pretty much.” Sora walks inside and heads to the balcony. He takes out an ashtray and puts it on the floor and sits down himself. Vanitas sits next to him, the ashtray in the middle, he glances at Sora with an expectant look and sees him take out a pack and place it in the middle of them. 

_I’m not supposed to._

“Exceptions.” He said lighting his stick. “So. What happened?”

Vanitas had stared at the inside of the apartment, through the same look and same division of the room. It was almost the same concept as his and Ventus’s place, though the decor was different. The living room was filled with gaming consoles, a couch and a couple of frames that have the same group photo they had. There was an island-like touch around them, mixed in with some modern spices. There was no doubt in his mind who lived there, or who would possibly come out of the bedroom. 

“I remembered something before the crash.” Vanitas rests his head on the railing. “Ventus and I were in a fight… about Roxas.”

They knew he was going to come up. Roxas. It was one of those inevitable obstacles that would rear its head, whenever their past would be in question. Sora never liked the topic, it was too much pain to remember. Too many mistakes were made, and even after he ended up with Roxas, it was a part of their story that they both hate to acknowledge. Evidently, that past also haunted the two others affected by the mess they’re all entangled in. 

“Man, those two… I wonder when they're ever going to let it go.” He takes a deep breath and frowns. “You probably guessed, but we don’t like talking about this either.”

Vanitas takes a stick from the pack, rolling it between his fingers. “ _Those two_?”

“Yeah. Ven and Roxas,” He sighs deeply and turns to him. “They never got along, not back then and not now.”

He didn’t need Sora to figure that out. The small bits he had verged into that inevitable direction. It was the ‘why’ of the matter that he didn’t know. Of course, Sora would know about it, he and Roxas live together, they must’ve told each other everything. Then, it begs the question, did Ven tell him about his indelible hateful relationship with Roxas too? 

“I think Ven might’ve told you before, but they’re only related through the same father. Roxas grew up in Twilight Town, and Ven grew up in Daybreak Town with his mother. They never knew each other until one day they did.” 

Maybe Sora wasn’t the right person to talk about something as personal as the past of the two blondes, he wasn’t one that would get sucked into important details. He’d glossed over them because anyone as amicable as he is, wouldn’t really care about the past of his friends. It’s one of the reasons they got along, one of the saving graces of Sora’s personality, but right now, he needed more detail than ‘one day they did’. He resisted the urge to jab his face in and raised his brow at Sora to signify his interest. 

Sora stares at his reflection on the glass sliding door. His consciousness far away from the balcony they sat in. It was rare to see the brunet serious, even more rare to see him speechless, but it only goes to show how deep and significant their topic is. Whatever Roxas and Ven went through, in their childhood or after that, it was all connected. Even after they’ve each settled down, Ven carried their shared past like a deadweight, and though Roxas may not act the same, he carried it as well. 

No, not only the two of them, but Sora and himself as well. Although, something inside him is telling him that he’s dealt with the burnt of the matter, he’s not about to consider some phantom voice when his memory is still fucked. Sora and Roxas may have their own demons that spawned from the same cause, it still differs from him and Ven's. 

“Ven… Hmm.” Sora pauses and smiles apologetically. “Maybe you should ask him yourself.”

He scoffs and nods. “Figures that you're clueless about this.”

“I just know where and when to stick my head out of trouble. You never learned that, did you?” He wiggles his brow and returns the scoff. “You should have brought beer, man.” Sora sighs and looks back into the inside of his apartment. There was a sadness in his demeanor, an empathy for the experience he’s yet to say. “Roxas… Uh, he’s a complicated guy, he’s a little bit like you, Van. I guess it’s why you two hit it off when you guys met.”

 _That._ He remembers _that part_ all too well, he wished he didn’t. If he could swap it for a memory of being with Ven, he would, but it was like his head knew where teenage Vanitas’s interest would lie. There was a certain darkness in Roxas that he knew he confided in because none of his other friends had it. 

Without memory. 

Without a clue or inkling. 

He’d always know Roxas.

  
  
  


_He puts a glass of golden liquid and ice next to him. He takes a gulp of the same drink in his hand. He was a broke ass college student, but Roxas’s parent’s were loaded. Hence, the blonde always had access to the best kind of alcohol out there: scotch. Acquired taste, but once it sets in, not even the coldest beer would suffice._

_“Roxas.” He repeats and sits on the free side of the bed._

_Roxas was curled up to the side of his bed. His head tucked under a pillow, his arms and legs hugging the same pillow that covered his face. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, until he feels his bed dip when Vanitas sits on the space by his feet. He scoots up to the headboard and sits up, leaning his back on the headboard._

_“Vanitas.” Roxas said to the ceiling. “Why is it always you…”_

_He lived outside of the dorms and Vanitas relished having the chance to get out of student body crowding and housing. Perhaps it was more than the escape, but the person that called him in the middle of the night. It was strange, he had to admit, to receive calls from someone he barely met asking if he could come over and have a drink, but scotch is nice, and Roxas’s company is… it’s not atrocious. He’s tolerable._

_He guesses he’s just the same. He’s tolerable to Roxas too._

_“Then call ‘him’.” He takes a sip of the liquid and swishes it around his glass, leaning back over the comforts of the bed. “C’mon, Roxas, you know ‘he’ would come running if you called.”_

_“And let him see how pathetic I am?” Roxas laughs bitterly, reaching a lazy hand over the set glass for him. “No thanks. Sora… Sora can’t see this side of me.”_

_He cocks a finger at him, a smug look on his face. “That’s why it’s always me.”_

_That was how it started. How he fooled his mind that all the time they spent together, beneath the quiet of the night, lighted by stars and the impending dawn, was nothing but his tolerance for a stranger. For a lost soul looking for comfort, for the solace he’s too scared to reach. Roxas worried too much about his image, about how Sora would look at him if he found out how fucked up he is, how scared he is to say what he really wants._

_“Shut up.” Roxas kicks his side, lightly. A friendly response to answer a question that never needed one. “So… did you see?”_

_Vanitas clicks his tongue and sneers. “You mean that tall, lanky, green eyes that I passed before getting here, couldn’t miss him if I tried.”_

_He gets kicked again._

_“What, no words? No ‘you’re an asshole’ or ‘jerk’, nothing like that for me tonight?” Dementedly, he laughs into the silence and ignores Roxas’s piercing glare. The anger in it is less prominent than the other dark emotion that he’s familiar with seeing. “He didn’t know how to please you, huh?”_

_“Tch. I’m fine.” Roxas answers clipped, turning his head to the side. He folds his arms over his chest and keeps his sight on the empty glass. “Don’t tell Sora.”_

_He sighs aloud, sitting up and turning his full attention to him. “It’s not like he’d have a right to get angry about you sleeping around. You two aren’t together.”_

_Roxas was still adamant that he's 'fine'. He drew up his legs to him, retracting as Vanitas inches forward, filling the space they had between them. He laughs at the way Roxas kept his frown on his face, as if it would hide how his body resonated just being near him. He reaches up with his fingers, titling his averted eyes back to him. He's much closer than before, his chest pressed heavily against his drawn legs, his hold over him hard enough that he wouldn't be able to break away unless he wanted to._

_“I wouldn’t say a word, it’s not my business who you sleep with, but at least have some standards.”_

_“Pfft. You mean you?” Roxas said, snarky. He chuckles at the way Vanitas wiggled his eyebrow and shakes his head. “That was a mistake… and you know it!”_

_“Oh. Did I?” He mocks with a roll of his eyes, slipping his free hand in between the propped up legs in front of him, pushing them apart despite the blanket that covered them. Roxas doesn’t fight and lets him guide his leg off the bed, pulling off the blanket that separates them. Vanitas takes the signal and allows his knee to inch up closer to him, as he pulls him forward by his chin. He clicks his tongue and leans in close, whispering to his ear: “Never thought it was.”_

_He cages Roxas to the headboard, holding his wrists on top of each other with one hand over his head, his knee planted directly by his groin, Roxas’s half-hard cock pressing against the ripped fabric of his jeans. He hasn’t even done anything and Roxas was already responding so well to him. It makes the smirk on his face grow wide, even if Roxas was determined to keep a straight face, everything from his sensitive cock, his excited breath and flushed cheeks were more than enough to give away what he really wanted._

_“Did he know… where to touch you?” Vanitas says as he trails down light kisses down his exposed neck. He licks a strip just beneath his ear, sucking at the spot in a teasingly slow pace. Roxas bucks forward, his restrained hands fighting Vanitas’s grip. “... No?”_

_“...A-Asshole.” He spits out, stifling his ragged breath by biting his lips. Vanitas would have stopped, if Roxas asked. The thing is, fucking Roxas isn’t as simple as it should be; it’s not direct and worded, he’s the kind that wanted to respond to a pace set by other. He hooks his leg around Vanitas’s thigh, pulling him closer to him, setting a slight friction of pressure over his cock, slipping himself lower and under Vanitas’s propped up arms and legs._

_“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”_

_Vanitas chuckles at the eagerness, letting his hands free to hang loosely over his shoulders. He pressed their foreheads together, his clothed chest soaking up the cold sweat over the other’s exposed chest. Roxas lifts his head from the mattress, his arms hung around his neck as he pulls him down to him. Vanitas keeps his knees up, locking Roxas’s thighs from closing, his own cock aching at being restrained by his pants._

_He feels the hands over his shoulder move, trailing down his chest, past its edges. Roxas fumbles with the button, but once he’d unlatched it, he pulls down the zipper with ease. He works down the pants and boxers off, while Vanitas watches him, amused at how needy Roxas looks while undressing him._

_“Off.” He demands with a growl. “Take it off!!”_

_“Hmmm… You’re doing just fine.” Vanitas responds playfully, sucking and kissing at his exposed neck down to his prominent collar bones. He hears Roxas mewl at his kisses, his frantic hands gripping around his chest and arms, completely lost on where to hold on. Vanitas presses his knee over his hardening dick, simulating a slow and forceful thrust down his cock._

_Roxas moans out, his hand reaching down to stroke himself, unable to take the lack of warmth over his throbbing cock. Vanitas grabs his hand and locks it beside his head, under his grasp. He smirks at Roxas’s red face, his disgruntled want pressed against his thigh, goading to be noticed._

_“Fuck… Fuck, if you’re not going to—“His rant unceremoniously cut by a strong tug over his cock. Vanitas lowers himself, pressing a trail of kisses and licks down his creamy skin. His lips settling over his nipple, his tongue flicking over it until it hardens, grazing the edges of his teeth around the hard button._

_He throws his head back, his chest lifting up as his body arcs up. His hips thrusting helplessly at Vanitas’s loose hold over his hardness. His only free hand lands over Vanita’s face, the sensation building up on his stomach, making him pull at his black hair as he shuts his eyes and moans into the dark room. “Oh god… Shit… Fuck me, Sora… Please!”_

_The name doesn’t faze Vanitas. It was as if he was expecting it. He lets Roxas pleasure himself, riding his unmoving hand by his own thrusts, before meeting the furious pace Roxas’s thrusts started with his hand. He pumps along with each moan, and puff of air, slowly pulling himself up to sitting to witness Roxas thrash around before going incredibly still. He pumps harder, more intently then before and two or three tugs, white hot liquid drips over his hand that continued its motion in a merciless pace that made Roxas sob in ecstasy to stop._

_“Sora! So… ra… Sora, please!” Roxas screams, his hands fumbling over his discarded blankets and the mattress under him. “Sora. Fuck m-me… I’m…”_

_He rides his high, his entire body convulsing, his cock still leaking with the same dewy cum, Vanitas pulls him by his ass, putting the limp arms over his shoulders. In the midst of Roxas’s deadweight over him, he manages to pull a rubber he expected to use and covers himself before Roxas could whine. He lines himself over Roxas’s throbbing entrance. His hole still freshly stretched from the man that was here before him, though the red-head may not have the same girth or length that he has, at the very least he’s stretched Roxas’s tight hole enough. He’d give the second-rate fuck buddy credit._

_He grips Roxas’s waist, his fingers digging into his soft skin and the cheeks of his ass and pushes him down his erect cock, hearing Roxas whimper as he takes the full length in. The limp arms around him shifts, his hands grasping desperately at his back for some form of stability. Vanitas leans back, guiding his hips in a down and up motion, while Roxas bites his shoulder in an attempt to stifle his screams. He writhed against him, every thrust that Vanitas does hits that sweet bundle of muscle in an abusive pace. Roxas gasps, his nails digging into flesh, his legs hugging Vanitas’s waist in one final attempt to ride out another mind blowing orgasm._

_“I’m not done.” Vanitas says, voice devoid of emotion. While Roxas has slumped over him, his breathing too erratic, and his control over himself barely there. He feels Roxas shake his head, lifting himself off of Vanitas; he moves himself away and pushes Vanitas down with his shaking hand._

_“Let me…” Roxas says, sliding the tips of his fingers down to Vanitas’s still hard cock, rolling the rubber off and throwing it to the side. He lowered himself down and started by sucking on the tip of his cock. Lolling his tongue over the head, tasting the bitterness of his cum as he slides the tip of his cock’s opening. Vanitas puts his hand over his head, pushing him to go deeper, while he enjoys the view of Roxas going down on him completely bare._

_It wasn’t long until Vanitas’s impatience took the lead, he grips Roxas’s blonde locks and paces him to get used to his length quickly, pushing him down that Roxas initially chokes. But after a few more thrusts, Roxas was able to take his full-length in a satisfying pace, that each sucking motion made him grip at the mattress under him. Roxas notices and pulls away and then quickly swallows his length with one throaty gulp, the pressure enough to make him blow his load into his warm mouth. Which Roxas takes, the cum dripping from his lips, down to his neck, before collapsing in fatigue over Vanitas._

_Vanitas moans at the sight, taking a discarded blanket to wipe the drips of cum and saliva over his groin area. Between the two of them, he’s obviously the one that’s expected to clean up. Roxas was passed out on top of him, and he, himself, was still more or less clothed. He pushes the weight off of him and rolls off the bed, pulling the boxers up and zipping his pants on. He picks up Roxas into his arms and lays him back down where he originally laid, pulling the blankets back on the bed and using the cleaner side to cover him._

_He was about to leave, only to be stopped by a tug on his shirt. “...Vanitas.”_

_It was all he could mumble, falling in and out of consciousness._

_How unfair could he get, just how much more of this could he take…? The sight of him, his blonde hair more messy than normal, his face, expressionless. The hand that tugged on his shirt still hung out of the bed, reaching for him to do exactly what he always wanted to do._

**_Stay._ **

_“I’ll get you water.”_

  
  


_It was one of the better nights, at least Roxas speaks to him—him, Vanitas, and not just a space filler for Sora. There were nights when he’d come by this room, a string of boys and girls coming out of the same. At first it was a shock, but then he’d fall into his same routine of getting both of them a glass of the good bottle of alcohol and setting it over to where Roxas was._

_Those nights, the bad nights, neither of them would talk. They’d be in each other’s presence but nothing else. Roxas would cry into his arms and knees, he’d cry until he’d fall asleep. While Vanitas didn’t mind the silence, nor didn’t mind the echoing sobs and the wall put up between them. It was just how they worked. He had never cried in his life, as hard as it was, it felt as if his body rejected it. In a way, hearing Roxas cry was soothing. At least he could cry for the both of them, for the times that life was too hard, when they come across rigged failures, or for simply never being enough. Roxas would cry for every little imperfection they both couldn’t shake because they were born with it._

_The one flaw in their lives. The one fear that could crumble any tough armor they wear. The curse of being abandoned and the crippling dread of rejection. If he was to take only his life, his fears, and the most immediate one would be… his feelings for_ **_him_ ** _._

_When Roxas woke up, Vanitas was sitting beside him on the bed. Busy with his phone, reading his notes for his classes a couple of hours later. He sees him reach for the water he set there a couple of hours ago, and watched him pull himself up, his regular expression back on his face._

_“It sucked that you called me ‘Sora’ the entire time.”_

_“Where is this coming from?” He groans, completely livid. “You said it was fine.”_

_He repeats in genuine wonder. “Did you really think it was?”_

_Roxas scoffs, almost weirded out about the insinuation. “Vanitas—“_

_“Did you really think I was fine filling for Sora?”_

_“... That’s what you said—“_

_“Why is it always me, Roxas?”_

_…_

_“Why… why do you let me see this side of you; the part you’re so fucking afraid to show someone you say you ‘love’ but are so afraid of feeling for!”_

_..._

_“Did you regret me?” It was all he could say, all his words would let him say. Roxas wouldn’t answer him, and by the looks of the way he ignored everything he said… It’s going to be the same shit as from the first time they fucked. Roxas would run away. He gripped his hands to a fist, waiting for something…_ **_anything_ ** _at all._

_Roxas turns away. “This is a mistake.”_

_They’ve done it many times before, but he’s only opened the topic once and Roxas nearly shut him out because of it. He still remembered Roxas’s face when he woke that morning, and searched for the label to call them; anxiety flicked at every corner of his human existence as he ran away from Vanitas as fast as he could. As if the entire night they spent together was wrong. He ran away and all Vanitas could do was stare. It wasn’t a night of confessions and mutual feelings, it was a night of confusing lust and clawing frustration. Roxas had been driven mad by the feelings he’s too scared to say, while Vanitas was all too willing to give him the comfort that he needed. All for a chance of maybe…_ **_maybe_ ** _changing his mind. It had been a set up for disaster from the start, but it doesn’t mean everything about it was, as Roxas said, ‘a mistake’._

_In his head, he tells himself that he’s only doing this because Roxas was his way of vicariously letting out the emotions he has shut out. He wants to believe that there’s nothing that Roxas could do to hurt him, but his heart knew better. It hurts to wait, to stand still and hold himself back from kissing those lips that trembled in his view._

_“Was I… really… just a mistake…?”_

_If anyone had asked him about that one night, Vanitas would have said that he wanted a do-over, he wanted to feel his lips again, he wanted to touch his skin and make him moan out his name. He wanted to burn the way Roxas would writhe and curse when he plunged into him. He wanted him, he wanted him too much to keep himself waiting for an answer he’d never get. He never pushed too far, he knew his limits, but he never pushed for a kiss again—kisses over his neck and elsewhere over his body were fine, but Roxas wouldn’t let him be kissed on the lips again._

_“Vanitas—“He feels a hand on his chest, a push away. “Stop it.”_

_He knew it would have happened, it’s why he hesitated talking about it; they’ve fallen into a pattern of sleeping around, being there for each other and all that’s left for them was to acknowledge what it is that’s between them. Although, deep down, Vanitas knew that he was alone in it, that his feelings were something he felt by himself only._

_All those nights before, those late night calls that he’d answered and heard nothing across the line; all those liquor and smoke they burned; and the mere seconds before down that Roxas let his guard down for him, and just for him, they were gone. The night was different, it felt different and having Roxas push him away with clarity in his eyes and strength in the space between them, he knew that whatever it is they had is over._

_He takes a deep breath and props his hands on the bed, leaning back to look up at the dark ceiling. What exactly did he think would happen, did he think that he could make him forget about Sora and prefer him instead? Did he really think he measured up to someone like Sora? He lets out a chuckle despite the sudden spike of pain over his chest._

_“Made up your mind?” He says with a bored tone._

_“I don’t know.” Roxas answers with a shrug. He reaches down to the side of his bed, pulling a hoodie from the floor and wearing it. “I just know that we can’t do this anymore.”_

_Bitterly, he laughs out loud. As if laughing was the only thing that he could do that’s acceptable. Roxas stared at him with eyes that didn’t show pity or remorse. There was sadness in them, but he didn’t say anything to the effect, much to Vanitas’s relief._

_“You did.” He concludes for him, “You always knew who you wanted. All you ever saw was him. I can’t blame you, next to that guy… everyone else is a shadow.”_

_“It’s…” Roxas was desperate to push back, and prove that he wasn’t as head over heels as he made it seem, but nothing came out. His resignation was Vanitas’s signal that he’s right and there was nothing more to add. He could have let it go, could’ve stopped where they were. In the moment of conclusions, or endings and finding the answers they needed; he should have stopped here._

_Instead._

_“If you met me before Sora, do you think you’d like me more?”_

_Roxas slips off the bed, his hoodie barely covering the rest of him. It was obvious he didn’t want to deal with any more questions. Vanitas pushed too much, the silence was understandable. Even if he asked the question, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer. Under the dim lighting of the room, he could see Roxas still at the edge of the bathroom door, his hand over the handle, the sliver of light from inside dashed his shadow across the room._

_“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.” He says before entering the bathroom and turning on the shower. The patter of water echoes around the dark bedroom, the light from under the bathroom door bright enough to cast the stars in the sky back to nothing. Roxas didn’t want him there, not anymore, not after what had happened; he knew when he’s no longer wanted._

_In a defeated stupor, he sighed and took his leave. He takes one last look of the bed, the mess of shirts and sweaters on the floor, the half open window and drawn curtains; one last look before he leaves for good._ **_For good,_ ** _he repeats in his head, for a person like him that had to strive for everything he had, scour every opportunity and chance, being shown to the door—being pushed to leave—should have made him fight harder, but what was the point of fighting for someone that didn’t want you—_ **_never_ ** _wanted you at all?_

_The moment he shuts the door of the bedroom, his phone vibrates with a message alert from Roxas:_

**_‘Sorry.’_ **

_——————_

_The sky was grey with glum mode, the clouds huddled in their darker sky pockets, shielding the rest of the campus from any sight of blue for days. Autumn in Radiant Gardens was the bleakest season, it was the start of the another semester, and mostly, it means recitals for those that partake in music, theatre and arts. The Arts Department would always schedule must-see events and their recitals were legendary. It would always be full of students, talent scouts and stage-directors in the middle of casting alike._

_It was the only reason that students would trudge their way into campus and sit along the first few hours of a class, or… perhaps skip it altogether and wait out at the Marketplace like Vanitas._

_“Sorry! Sorry!” Xion runs up from the Housing District, her arm waving high above her as she runs with her shoulder bag strapped over the other side. She wore her usual black crop top and black plaid skirt, the only item she wore that had color is the thalassa shell pendant on her neck._

_She stops next to him, her hand clutching his shoulder, panting for breath. He leans lower, unnoticed, letting her catch her bearings with one seismic ‘ha!’. He hides the smile on his face and shrugs off the hand still resting on him._

_“Been waiting long?” She asks, flushed and a little unnerved by her own punctuality. “Oh, wait. Where’s Ven?”_

_He rolls his eyes, a genuine smile on his lips. “Guess who slept in?”_

_“Oo~oh. Did you lovebirds have a busy night?”_

_Immediately, he yanks her arm to the side, his amber eyes wide in panic as he scans the area for familiar faces or eyes that bore intrigue. Thankfully, there was none. Xion has all but appeared for a minute and his entire existence is jumpy with anxiety. Shouldn’t she be the one in the constant state of panic, she’s the one that goes on stage in a couple of hours!_

_“Listen here, brat. You don’t ask that.” He reprimands, brows knit together in frustration. “Shouldn’t you be at the Recital Hall, why are you even here?”_

_“Relax, Van! I’m good, besides! Ven promised ice cream!” Her mythical puppy dog eyes fluttering in heavy suggestion. “But… he’s not here yet… so…” she resorts to pouting, twiddling her fingers along with those blinking amethyst eyes._

_He pinches the bridge of his nose, his frustration still evident on his face. After nearly causing his heart to jump out his throat, this brat is extorting him for ice cream. “Seriously, what are you, five?”_

_“I’ll have you know, Ven and I are six and a half!” She declares with a happy giggle._

_She got that right. Ven acts like a kid too, it’s probably why the both of them became fast friends despite being in vastly different courses. Then again, it is Ven, he could make friends with the most aloof, distant and cold person in the world. The corners of his lips etch up just thinking of him, it was a wonder how he got from being unable to tolerate Ven to counting the seconds until they’re together._

_It was a huge change. A welcomed change and one he never saw coming._

_“Fine. I’ll get you brats ice cream.”_

_He slings an arm over her shoulders, making her peer up at him with a perplexed look. He smirks, dragging her under his arm, headed to the direction of the ice cream store. He had some money to spare, Ven wasn’t the kind of person that liked expensive places, nor did he like being bought gifts. They weren’t together, they were… just ‘friends’ but he hoped he could change that label by the end of the night._

_“Seriously?! You’re so cool Vanitas!” She yells out in excitement. “Can I get two?”_

_“No.” He answers with a light hit on her head. “Just one, you like Sea-Salt, right?”_

_She blows her cheeks up and whines. “If Ven was here he’d buy me two.”_

_“Well, he isn’t.” He opens the door to the store and lets both of them inside. Xion follows him close behind, a huge pout on her lips, arms crossed over her chest. She really is a damn toddler, he takes another breath and checks his phone. He sees a cascade of messages from the slept-in toddler exclaiming time frames, stating ETAs and a string of apologies._

_He was about to reply to the message, when he noticed Xion grinning at him like he’s been caught red-handed, the evidence was on his face: the flushed cheeks, the cheeky look of pure and unadulterated fondness. He couldn’t have given himself away anymore, if he tried._

_“At least you’re honest with your feelings now.” Her tone dips low, into the voice she uses when she wants to be serious. The teasing grin fades from her face, replaced by worried grimace. “It’s like the Universe marked it out, you two should be together, but both of you have such suckish timing!”_

_He shrugs and ruffles her head. “Do we?” He says with a half-smile, using Xion’s smaller height to his advantage, making her into his moving armrest._

_“Yeah! Especially you!” His armrest pipes out with a spiteful groan. “I’m taking the chance on believing you, and… I’m doing it for Ven. Just do me one favor, Van. Don’t ever hurt him again.”_

_“I don’t intend to hurt him at all. I made a mistake before, Xion, and I’ve been making it up to him ever since.” He knew that there’s no amount of apologies, no gifts or favors that would be enough to make up for what he did. Maybe even this time, these moments he spends with Ven were borrowed time. He knew that he had a wall before him, a barrier of distrust he sowed as consequence for his mistake. “I just want to be next to him, as much as I can, for as long as he’d allow me to.”_

_Ventus didn’t have to let him stay, he didn’t have to listen to his explanations. He didn’t have to accept him, didn’t have to forgive him at all, but he did and it was like a weight off his shoulders and at the same time a weight that dragged him down to the deepest parts of hell. It suit him right,to be on the verge of happiness but never being able to reach it. Sardonic as it was, he’d take every little thing he could, even if ‘friends’ is all that Ven sees them as._

_She takes a deep breath and entwines her fingers together. She played her own part in hurting one of her best friends, and it was obvious that it bothered him too. Just not as much as it did with him. She takes another breath, shakier than the last, and stares at him with watery eyes. “I'm on your side, Vanitas.“_

_“Hi! What can I get you guys today?” The cheery cashier pipes in._

_Taking the chance to change the subject, he answers swiftly: “Sea-Salt. Darkside and Stracciatella,” and pulled out a bill from his wallet and placed it on the counter._

_On his side, he sees Xion pout at him. The cashier’s eyes glance over at her but doesn’t say much aside from her usual spiel and gives back the change. He mouths to her a quiet ‘thanks’ and turns away. It was good timing for both of them, the intrusion made Xion sniffle back up her oncoming tears, putting her back to her ice-cream-excited mood, and he personally doesn’t want to get into it. Whether he wants to rehash how much of an asshole he was, or the fact that he’s deathly nervous of how this ‘date’ would result, it was a good call for ice cream._

_Xion found them a spot next to the windows, he wouldn’t usually sit where people would see him, but she made a point about being easier to find since Ven is probably running around the campus trying to find them. Both of them sent him a message on where they were waiting, but Ven has a tendency to get lost or sidetracked with people he meets along the way. Mostly, out of his own doing, but sometimes it was done to avoid someone he preferred not to see. A trick he did to him once, or thrice before, when they weren’t on speaking terms._

_He’s not doing that now, of course; he’s the one that said he’s watching Xion’s recital! He may have pestered Ven to let him go with him, but he still said ‘yes’. He pulls out his phone and stares into the contact page of Ven, contemplating on hitting the ‘call’ or the ‘message’ prompt. His phone had been quiet after the barrage of messages, and Ven did sound like he was sincerely apologetic for sleeping in… so why was he so worried?_

_“Call him.” Xion says while taking a huge spoonful of ice cream to her lips._

_"No!" He scoffs. “Why don’t_ **_you_ ** _call him?”_

_“I’m busy.” She uses her spoon to point at the ice cream cup before her. “You’re not eating yours, and that stracciatella is obviously for Ven, if you tell him that you got him his favorite flavor, I’m sure he’d bounce right over.” She mutters other comments under her breath, like ‘staring at his phone too much’ and ‘daydreaming about Ven’, but he ignores it all for the sake of not sounding an excited little kid over the phone._

_A shiver runs up his arm and to his shoulder. A part of him didn’t want to call, he didn’t want to look desperate and that he’s pining too much. Ven had set their boundaries to being friends, and calling with nerves spiking in his voice would mess everything up. All he needs to do is to act normal and pretend he doesn’t like Ven like he does._

_… Fuck. He presses on call and puts the phone on his ear. It takes two rings before Ven’s cheery greeting echoes from his end. He grips his spoon and pokes at his Darkside ice cream. Xion was grinning happily, scooping up more ice cream, deliciously into her mouth. He’d make her pay for that smug attitude after the call, that’s for sure._

_“Xion wanted ice cream, we’re at the ice cream shop.” He says in his most calm tone._

_He hears him giggle across the line._ **_“Yeah, I can see that.”_ **

_“Where—“Ven was looking through the glass window, his phone pressed to his ear, his face into a gentle smile. “... Hey. You.”_

**_“Hey you, too.”_ ** _He chuckles and heads for the door. Xion turns on her seat and waves at him, pointing at the creamy white cup in between her and Vanitas. He points to himself and turns towards Vanitas's flushed face, his phone slid back to his pocket._

_Ventus hovers before the seat._

_“I… Xion said it's your favorite.” He runs the back of his head, averting his eyes to the window. It was an outward lie, Xion didn’t have to tell him what Ven’s favorite was, he’d known it. Back from when he only pretended to like and care for him. He didn’t think he’d absorb that much information, but looking back, he wished he paid more attention. “I can get you another flavor, if you don’t like it.”_

_Ven waves his hands to the side. “No, no! Stracciatella is great! Thank you, Vanitas.”_

_He takes his seat before his designated sundae cup, hurriedly digging into the creamy, milky flavored dessert. He’d turn his attention to Xion, who was already done with her cup, talking about her department’s recital. She was to play the violin with a three piece set, accompanied by her mentor as the pianist. She didn’t show any hint of fright or nervousness, and even seemed pretty excited about it. Ven says an advanced congratulatory remark and promises her another serving of ice cream after the event. Which not only made her bite her lip in doubt, but also turned to Vanitas in anxious shock._

_“What?” Ven catches on, his blue eyes following amethyst. “What is it?”_

_Xion covers her nervousness with a faint laugh. “I thought you two would go on a date after. I don’t want to intrude.”_

_‘Now, why in the hell would she say that’, Vanitas’s expression sends. Xion wished she didn’t speak at all. In the few seconds that lay in silence, it was evident that the carefully constructed plan in Vanitas’s head had just undergone a surprise attack from a sledgehammer called ‘Xion’._

_Ven laughs. “No! No! Xion, you got it all wrong, Vanitas doesn’t like me like that! We’re just friends!” He turns his blue eyes to him, awaiting the expectant support to his declaration. “Right, Van?”_

_In the depths of his being, spirit and soul, he wanted to say ‘no’. He wanted to shout it. Yell and scream. No, he didn’t think they’re just ‘friends’; no, Ven is definitely wrong; and no, he doesn’t just ‘like’ Ven. It was more than that, it was more than anything he ever felt for somebody before and it scares him. It wasn’t something that he could feel in his dick, nor an infatuation of the mind. He wasn’t his usual type that he sought to protect. He wasn’t broken like him, he wasn’t consumed by fear, like Roxas. Ven is hauntingly radiant, far too bright for somebody used to the dark like him._

_Perhaps, it’s the radiance that he sees that helped him understand that he doesn’t deserve to be before him at all. That all he has is this borrowed time._

_“Right.” He says with a barely passable smile. “We’re friends.”_

_—————_

_The day after he left Roxas’s apartment, was the day he stopped coming to the rooftop. It’s been a couple of weeks or even months since he’s talked to either of them._

_He didn’t mind seeing Sora, the brunet is one of his best friends, but he knew what would happen. Hell, he pushed for it to happen. Roxas would end up where Sora was, he’d step forward because he can’t keep shielding himself from a broken heart before it even appears. In a way, he got Roxas, the way he feared being too far gone to deserve someone like Sora, a person that barely did anything wrong in his life. It was guilt, regret and a mixture of apathy; he knew Sora was someone that he’d end up corrupting, Roxas expected it, but at the other end of his feelings, he didn’t really care as long as he had him._

_Sora had always known about it. How Roxas felt and how he ran away from it. It was a secret he kept to himself, at least he intended to keep to himself. But Vanitas knew him too well. He read through his fake smiles, his faux confusion and his innocent act; he wasn’t blind to how Sora would test the waters, how his touch would linger too long, his eyes focused every little detail when Roxas would react to him. He knew how Roxas felt, down to every single insecurity he felt about himself, and also, that the best thing to do is to wait. Wait, until Roxas was ready. Wait, until he’s faced his demons and decided for himself._

_All Sora had been doing was waiting for Roxas. It’s been a long time, and what kind of friend would he be, if he doesn’t let his best friend relish the time he’s been waiting for since the day he met him?_

_He walked out of the lecture hall, thinking of skipping the rest of the day. There was no point in sitting inside a classroom anymore, he had always been a self-study kind of person, whatever the class would learn he’d be able to make up for it with a lot of time to spare. He only went to class because Sora would pester him, but he had a good feeling that Sora would be too preoccupied to notice that he wasn’t there anyway. If anything, it was almost Christmas break, even professors would understand that students’ would be too lazy to get their asses in class._

_All in all, it’s his free day, he’d need it to look for another place to have his breaks, with or without nicotine. He hasn’t been around the campus too much, there being too many places that are either buzzing with life, or filled with people he preferred to stay away from. There wasn’t much of a choice if he wanted to stay near his department’s building, and so he walked off to the direction of the campus quadrangle and community lots._

_Right into the direction of Fountain Square, where the person he least expected to be there sat with a girl with short black hair. He hasn’t seen Ventus since the start of the academic year, having been knocked out of the rankings and out of their original class too. He stands by the fountain, no longer in the asymmetrical clothing he wears, but in a huge cream cowl-neck wool sweater reaching to his mid-thigh, it’s sleeves drowning his arms and hands until all he had were sweater paws on his side over simple black tight jeans and comfy looking boots with fur-flaps._

_He looks completely different from the Ventus that went to the same classroom last year. He looked like he shrunk… and had gotten… cuddlier, which Vanitas would never admit to anyone. Ever. He’d take it to his grave, if had to. He tucks his unsaid comment to the back of his head, just as he surreptitiously hid behind a perfectly placed and trimmed hedge, staying within earshot of the two by the fountain._

_A year ago, after Roxas transferred, there used to be a conundrum in telling them apart, but their clothes were the easy way to figure out which is which, and possibly the definite difference in their facial expressions. He never really thought about Ventus after; where he ended up in, or what he’s been doing. He was just thankful he didn’t have eyes constantly looking at him or being at the end of some childish contest he didn’t care about. Ventus and Roxas might have similar features, but they were completely different people._

_And this blonde, drowning in softness and doleful smiles, is a far cry from the brash and impudent blonde he had grown so fond of._

_“Ven!” The black-hair girl whines pulling at his arm. “You can spend it with me! My family would be happy to have you!”_

_“Thanks, Xion, but I don’t mind, really.” Ven answers back, the laugh he makes was obviously strained. She continues to pull at his arm, successfully pulling him to his feet. He doesn’t budge after, scratching the back of his head with a shy smile. “Christmas is something you spend with your family, I don’t want to intrude.”_

_She huffs and stands with both feet planted on the ground, her hands on her waist. “You’re not intruding! I want you to be there, I’m not letting you spend Christmas alone!”_

**_Alone?_ ** _He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but it’s not like the girl was trying to keep anything they talk about as a secret. Ven looked as sullen as he sounded, as if the spirit he had back when he first met him was gone. Was losing his rank and place in class, really that disheartening. If he were in the same place, he would have found another way to get back. Work the shifts, do the long hours, he wouldn’t be caught sitting at a fountain feeling sorry for himself. What did that girl say, ‘spending Christmas alone’, is it another form of his dramatics because he didn’t get his way? He’s still as annoying as ever._

_What did he expect, Ventus was one of those students that wanted the spotlight. He celebrates the little victories, the minuscule things that nobody cared about, the few things that he had over anyone, and one the one victory he had over Vanitas. It was a meaningless debate, a graded exercise that pitted students against each other. They were matched and in a surprising upset of magistrate score, Ventus won and got the higher grade. It was one time and Ventus never let him live it down._

_Childish. Just remembering how irritating Ventus could get, makes him want to slam his hand to his face. He never responded and walked away as much as he could, but he’d be lying if he said Ventus didn’t get on his nerves. Even as he looked on from afar, the exaggerated way he’s reacting—_

_“I’ll be fine, Xion.” Ven repeats with an assured chuckle. “It’s just Christmas.”_

_“But it's not just 'Christmas'! You said… you're not going to go home for the break.” She looks to her feet, her hands entwined together as her thumbs twiddle together. She looked uncomfortable and Ventus mirrored her expression with a somber smile. She lifts her head up and tilts her head with forced contentment. “Fine. At least tell me why you don't like going home for the holidays?”_

_Ven laughs hollowly, shrugging away her worried look. She hesitates in her steps, but one look at her watch completely changed her expression. She picks up a duffel bag set near the fountain and hooks it over her shoulder. There were a couple more things on the ground that probably belonged to her too. She was headed back home, to where her parents were for the holidays. As is customary for students that grew up with one, they can't even wait three more days to get back home._

_Ventus pinches both sides of her cheeks upwards. “Stop worrying! I’ll be fine!" He picks up the rest of her things and hands it to her, shooing her away with a smile. “Now, go! You don’t want that train to leave you!”_

_She dashes to the Borough Station, her paper bags and duffel bag swinging wildly around her as she waves back to Ven in the distance. Ven waves back with a grin, shouting gis well wishes and then, when she's finally out of range, he lets out a huge sigh and sits on the fountain's railing. The sullen look he had on returned, while he stares at his empty hands._

_“I'll be fine.” He laughs bitterly, resting his elbow over his lap, his hand covering half of his face. “Yeah, right.”_

_Just how long does he plan to stay there? Vanitas mumbles to himself, he's been stuck behind a rather large bush with his nose to his inactive phone. He could play that he’s just answering a message or checking in on his dailies, but it’s been more than five minutes and he’s still rooted in place. He’s starting to look suspicious and not in the cool kind, but the stalker kind. The only saving grace is the lack of people milling about, since Borough Station had its own cafes and mini-marts. Fountain Square is the farthest community park from campus and there’s barely anything to do but to look at the flowers and waters._

_Which brings to mind, what is the most social butterfly doing sitting alone up there?_

_He didn't like Ventus. There was no reason to go up to him and ask, aside from his burgeoning curiosity. It was like seeing a butterfly shed off it’s colorful wings and fade back into a lonely caterpillar, it was weird. He doesn’t like Ventus, he was immature, loud, childish and annoying—he recounts the many times the blonde got on his nerves, if only to reaffirm that he clearly cannot stand him, that all there was in his head, was the urge to know one thing—and_ **_only_ ** _one thing: why was he so deliriously unsettled by a quiet and sad Ventus?_

_Before his mind could catch up, his body had already moved forward. His feet heading towards the fountain, while the rest of his consciousness catches up to him. When his thoughts are caught up, his mind and body finally on the same page, Ventus turns his attention to him and he’s back to wondering what exactly made him come up from the bush in the first place!_

_“You’re not going home for the break?” Right, he reminds himself, it was curiosity. That’s all it was._

_Ventus pulls himself up to sitting, looking strangely calm at the knowledge that Vanitas overheard them. He picks up the corner of his cheeks and plastered them to a smile. “Yeah! I’m planning on staying here, Daybreak Town is the farthest from Radiant Garden, so if I wanted to head home I should’ve booked my train tickets earlier. Stupid me, I guess.” Ven continues to explain, listing off a bunch of other excuses to snuff out the tracks of his previous conversation with Xion. It wasn’t that he was bad at diverting the topics of conversation, it’s just that Vanitas isn’t easy to mislead. He watched in attentive silence as Ventus continued to spew out words, his fake smile glued to him like concrete._

_“... and you’re not listening to me… are you?” Ven ends with a tired sigh, his eyes downcast. He stammers and draws a frown to his face, scooting back on his seat so that his feet would hang. “Did you… mistake me for someone else?”_

_“No. I know it’s you, Ventus,” because he heard them talking, and heard the name ‘Ven’ over and over; not because he radiates a ‘something’ that Roxas would never be. “I also know that you’re avoiding the question.”_

_He expected him to respond with the same faux smile and hollow laugh, he already planned out how he’s going to subtly escape from the conversation, because Ventus wouldn’t tell him anything that’s remotely personal as his family, he didn’t even tell that girl, what chance did Vanitas have? But as soon as he formulated a plan to smoothly facilitate his exit, Ventus showed him the bitter expression he tried so hard to keep to himself._

_“I… don’t have one.” Ven mumbles, his sweater paws connected before him to a line. The wind picks up, sending loose petals and leaves through the air in a gentle whirlwind. He lifts his watery eyes to him, forcing a practiced smile on his lips. “They don't want me there… So… it’s better, if I stayed here and not cause trouble for anyone.”_

_His chest tightens. He didn’t know what it was, how it manifested into physical pain, but he knew he shouldn’t have poked his head at it. There was a time that he wished for Ventus to know what real agony was, what true sadness could be, because he thought he was nothing but a bright ball of surface level happiness that didn’t understand what it means to be ‘happy’. He stares at the fake smile on his face, the corners of his lips stretched enough that a dimple appears and smile lines show on his cheeks._

**_How long have you practiced smiling so genuinely like that?_ **

_“... Stay with me.” His mouth slips, his heart pounding on his ears. “I don’t mean that as… ‘with’ me, but… uh you know, I spend Christmas in the dorms too.”_

_What’s happening, what’s he doing… Why did he say that!? He gulps the lump on his throat, his head had turned topsy turvy—twice!—and he’s been losing his footing for the last few minutes since he started this conversation. Everything he planned in his head, every scene that he predicted didn’t pan out, he’s usually a lot better at reading people, he’s studied social cues because he’s always been tolerant of people and their customs; not because he’s good with them, but the opposite, he needed to know every tick and every little sign to know how to control the situation… but a couple of minutes with Ventus and he’s coming up blank._

_Ventus’s eyes widen, he bites his lower lip, while his cheeks shine a light carnation. “I did know that… yeah, but… Nevermind.” He waves his hand in embarrassment, he raises his shoulders, burying half his face with the wide-neck collar of his sweater._

_It was the weirdest feeling in the world, the urge to pull the collar down and reveal the full view of his reddening face. He never thought he’d be so annoyed with a piece of clothing in his life, but here he was, telling his consciousness to focus on something else. He takes his eyes off him, turning towards the clear dancing waters beside them._

_“You can tell me.” Vanitas murmurs, his hand scratching the back of his neck, his eyes never meeting his. “I won’t mind.”_

_Ventus presses his sweater paws to his collar, eagerly hiding half his face. Even with only his peripherals, he could tell that Ventus wanted to completely hide his face with his sweater. He bites the inside of his cheek, stifling the imminent smile forming on his face. He crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his lips to a quivering line._

_“It’s just… you sort of hate me, so I never really tried to talk to you.” He laughs nervously, eyes peeking just enough to find amber eyes staring at him. “I know that I annoyed you when we were classmates, so…—what are you laughing at?” He drops his paws, pulling the edges of his sweater down, revealing his perfectly peachy face._

_“I’m being serious here.” Ven huffs with a pout._

_“I… I don’t … Hate you!” He struggles getting the words out, having uncontrollable laughter erupt from his insides that made, with each puff of breath, Ven grow more impatient. Eventually, leading him to uncharacteristically hit him on the chest. Which to Vanitas, looked like a fluffy white cat pawed at his arms._

_“C’mon, tell me already!”_

_His brows raised high, eyes wide as he stared at Ventus’s ‘paw’ perched precariously over his forearm. Ventus retracts his hand, his face burning with a brighter red color than before. He mumbles an apology under his breath and proceeds to never hold eye-contact after. All he saw were the tips of his fingers that dared to ‘hit’ Vanitas. He started to tumble down his rabbit hole, down to the depths of his inner mind, it was obvious with how the gleam in his eyes got duller, less focused. Less alive._

_“No, it’s alright.” Vanitas says, finally calming down with a last chuckle. He reaches out to him and tilts his chin up. “You’re just… so different from who I remember. You seem… quieter.” He wanted to add ‘smaller, redder,_ **_cuter_ ** _’, but he’s partially sure that Ventus was the same height and size and it’s just the oversized sweater that gives him this illusion of a cuter Ven… er._ **_Smaller_ ** _Ven._

_“Oh, yeah… that’s yeah… that’s really embarrassing.” Ven moves away and laughs awkwardly. “I pretended to be really confident and… ‘fun’, I guess I just wanted you to notice me—Uh, I—I meant! Y-you and Sora, you two were the coolest guys in our class. I acted that way so that you guys would think I was pretty cool too.”_

_All of that annoying bragging, that non stop teasing about the debate, and those childish contests… they were done for attention. True enough, he was right about it, but he never thought Ven’s intentions were more particular, more specific to just him and Sora. If Ven had known them, if he had just acted the way that he is now, all three of them would have gotten along better. Then it all clicked: What he thought was an obsession for him, wasn’t truly what it was. It was for them, the two of them: Sora and himself._

_If there’s anyone that made Ven want to pretend to be someone else to match up to their height in perfection, it would be Sora. But Sora would never turn anyone away. He is_ **_That Guy_ ** _, the one that got along with everyone and is loved by everyone. The entire student body could be said to be besotted with him, so it’s not surprising that Ven would feel the need to stand out between the rally of guys and girls that wanted his attention._

**_Really, Sora? Again? Tch._ **

_He would have felt a lot better if Ven had left Sora’s name out. He didn't want to have another blonde, blue-eyed, pretty thing to be taken from him again. Especially not by the same person. Even if they’re best friends._

**_Whoa. Wait. Wait… Am I really talking about Ventus?_ **

_Would he really, stoop so low… they’re different people. What he’s feeling is residual. The feelings that were unrequited, that he had to crush before they fully crystallized, the immeasurable regret that spins ‘what if scenarios in his head; those were the feelings that were currently fueling his curiosity and subconscious possessiveness over the lookalike blonde. This isn’t about Ventus, it’s about Roxas._

_This is about Roxas._

_“Vanitas?” Ven fidgets under his gaze, his ‘paws’ gone back to his regular fair toned hands. He shoves them both inside his jean pockets and titters forward and back, shifting his weight from the ball to heel of his feet. “Uh… I’ll be… going now…”_

_“No! Wait—“blue eyes stare at him expectantly,”—Uh… Do you… want ice cream?”_

_Roxas loved ice cream. It was the bits of him that made sense, the parts where Vanitas found him to be adorable. It was common for Roxas to be in a foul mood, and if he’s not, it was easy to push his buttons. He’s not the common person that would be nice for niceness sake, but he treats everyone as if he’s their mirror. They get what they give, and with Roxas, his bluntness and quick-wit, any person that got on his bad side would definitely suffer four or five times over. Despite his overly critical nature, his standoffish attitude and ill-temper; he was easy to calm down, that is, if you have some ice cream on hand._

_“...Me?” Ven cautiously points to himself, mouth hung open to a small gape._

**_Cute._ ** _He grabs his clothed forearm and leads the way. Ven dragged on the first three steps, but easily fell into step with him, letting his captured arm loose as he chased the pace behind Vanitas._

_Once Vanitas sees the visage of the ice cream store come up, he waits for Ven to catch up and walk beside him, his fingers still curled firmly over his forearm. He notices Ven had been staring at the hand over his arm, not with disdain but with a certain dreamy look he’s so familiar with. It flickers away when Ven notices him looking, but he’s already seen it. It was a look that Vanitas wouldn’t be able to forget, he’s seen it too many times on his own face, in the mirror; on Sora’s when he thinks Roxas isn’t looking; and, on Roxas, whenever Sora is near. It was the look of a person in love and Ven looked to him._

_He grips his empty hand to a fist, tightening them, until his fingers dug marks to his palm. His chest felt a slight twinge that spread to his stomach and throat. It felt weird, it felt wrong… but most of all, it felt good to finally be at the receiving end of that look. It didn’t help that it was so easy to think that face to be Roxas’s. It wasn’t right, they weren’t the same, but…_

_“Is that for me?” Ven perks up, approaching him as he exited the store with two cones of ice cream, dark chocolate with rum, or better known as Darkside, and Sea-Salt._

_Instinctively, Vanitas hands him the light blue colored dessert. Ven responds with a confused look and a laugh after. His blue eyes brewing a storm beneath its gleam. Vanitas wonders aloud, completely taken aback by the expression on his face._

_“Uhm… isn’t this your favorite?”_

_Ven shakes his head, his smile a little different from the ones before. “No. You must be thinking of someone else.” He says with an almost heartbroken tone, taking the offered ice cream with a hollow laugh._

_“Sea-Salt… is my half-brother’s favorite.”_

  
  
  


“...Yeah, yeah… Just out like a log. What? No! I didn’t! Naminé! I’m serious, should I be calling an ambulance? I’m not going to throw ice water on him, he’s unconscious now but he’s going to kick my ass when he wakes up—Oh, hey, I think he's moving! I gotta go!” 

He passed out. Again. _Ugh._ It was getting annoying, having been taken out of his consciousness for twice in a row and it’s only half the day. Those stupid triggers, they always work when he least expected them to. He’s spent countless days in the presence of both Roxas and Sora; heck, he had a fight with Ven about Roxas, and so many times that his thoughts ran back to him, and yet it chooses the moment when he finally searched for answers on his own, to return to him. 

They weren’t the kind of memories that he liked to relive when he’s waking up at Sora’s apartment, his partner being the object of one of the many memories that came back to him. The only question he faces is how does he go about it. Sora had sat on the coffee table in front of him, recalling the events that happened after his involuntary sleep. Most of his words and explanations were a buzz in his ear, his full attention still back on the resurgence of his recently returned memories. 

He groans and pulls himself up to sit. “How… long was I out?”

“How about ‘I’m sorry I spooked you by pretending to die’? Geez. I was talking for over an hour and you didn’t even hear a word.” Sora ends with a sigh of relief. He transfers from the table to the space beside Vanitas, pushing away at the legs on his cushiony sofa. “So. You normally drop like a fly since the accident?”

Vanitas chuckles, the way Sora phrases everything makes everything less detrimental and serious than it is. Then again, taking things too seriously has been the chip on his shoulder that he can finally, and confidently, say he never outgrew. It was definitely Sora that taught to take a step back and chill out, it was mostly him that pushed the saying go with the flow and don't fight destiny. They were, at core, completely of different built, but they balanced each other out. At least, enough that Sora's naivety and overly trusting nature transformed, and Vanitas's doubt all persona broke. In hindsight, Sora's way of handling his lost memories was the most laissez faire of all, but without the pressure to regain anything, he always found himself stumbling into more and more triggers. 

“It’s how it works.” 

Sora’s ‘ohhs’ of realization filled the space around them. He’s been talking to Naminé, and it seemed like it finally clicked. The reason the doctor and friend in her was the least bit concerned about Vanitas passing out. He pieces together the small facts and information he got from Naminé, eventually coming to the conclusion that what he did—telling Vanitas about whatever it was he did—was wrong. Vanitas didn’t need to hear it from him, he could already tell from the face journey Sora took a meter away from him.

“I don’t want to hear it.” He says, massaging his throbbing head. “I passed out before I could hear shit from you. Naminé must’ve explained it enough, but I can’t… I can’t just wait around for it to come back. I’m not built like that.” 

“Yeah. Tell me about it.” Sora guffaws, shaking his head in amusement. “It always has to be your way or no way. It used to drive Roxas crazy, and Ven… Ven loved it about you, and buddy, me? I found you being blocked from what your way is absolutely the best comedy.” 

_He loved it about me… ?_ It was probably an exaggeration. One of those ‘love is blind’ commentary he’s heard so much about, because no person found him ‘lovable’ for being too imposing, no normal person would find his direct bluntness as something endearing enough to tack on a warm feeling such as ‘love’. Ventus wouldn’t, he couldn’t… they all said it, after all, he changed with Ventus. He’s ‘nice’ to him, as Naminé said; how could anyone, as stubborn and emotionally constipated as he is, find him ‘lovable’?

“Are you blushing?” Sora’s eyes widens with a glimmer of mischief. “Damn. Ven really got you smitten, huh?”

What should he say, does he deny it, or does he say exactly what it is his chest has been drumming since the memory at the fountain came back? It wasn’t much to go on, but it was enough for the moment. A part of him wanted to know more, wanted to veer into his past and watch them make sense of the mess he made. It made him cringe, seeing him stutter and pause, hum and go quiet; while Ven titters and flits about, wearing his heart on his sleeve that was always, _always_ beating for him. 

“I don’t… know.” The smile on his face reaches to his ears, before fading away into a grimace, “but I’ve seriously fucked up.” 

Sora doesn’t jest and easily shifts from his teenage self back to being the best friend Vanitas depended on for most of their timing knowing each other. He never needed much guidance, that is, if he were to keep count, it would be Sora that needed a little push when he second guesses himself. Hence, whenever the rare moments of needing Sora’s help happens, he knew Sora wouldn’t joke about it.

“Okay, granted you've been fucking up your entire relationship since college, how much did you remember?” 

He chuckles, still inadvertently elated by having bigger pieces of the puzzle fall into place. “A lot and not much,” common sense would say that he wade into the waters. He shouldn't jump, head first, into a pool and later find out there were piranhas swimming in it. Common sense was lost to him at the moment. 

“I liked Roxas and you knew about it.”

Sora stares at him with a straight face. He doesn't move from his seat nor say or do anything, except for looking straight into Vanitas’s amber eyes. He waits for the end, for Vanitas to shut his mouth and decide whether he’s ready to face how Sora would respond. Egregiously, Vanitas took his own words a lot worse than how Sora does. 

“I did.” His blue eyes blinking in interest, the soft kind smile on his face remains. “I tried to push you guys together too, it seemed that Roxas preferred you then too.”

“You’re wrong, even back then.” Vanitas says immediately, slamming his hand on the cushion between them. “He… never saw anyone else but you.” 

It was Sora’s turn to grin widely, the soft smile on his face completely replaced by an ear to ear toothy grin. It made Vanitas realize that whether Sora and himself had known, they probably had never talked about the ‘Roxas’ issue as sincerely as they do now, or else, why would Sora be crazily beaming like he won the lottery after hearing his side of things. 

“He would never give me a straight answer whenever I asked.” Sora says with a chuckle. “You know how he is, he would deflect and would say it in other ways. Roxas being sensitive and wordy about emotions?”

They exchanged glances before speaking out the same line at the same time: “Fat chance.”

The awkward air and the pent up energy they both had were released by the laughter they filled the air with. It was no longer tense inside the vaguely similar room, but along with the returning memories was a promise he made before he took the job, and the reason why the fight with Ven got out of hand. They were the two masterminds behind the plot, but somehow Sora doesn’t seem to be pulling his weight, because Roxas still acts like a dick to Ven. 

“About that, didn’t we say that we’d get those two estranged siblings to be… _not so estranged._ What the hell happened?” 

Sora claps in exclamation, suddenly enliven by the turn of the topic. The crude looking gesture of scratching the back of his head, his face in a ‘oh gosh, darn it’ simpleton expression, made Vanitas deadpan faster than Sora could fill the air with reasons that he’d rather not listen to. His memory was partially back, and Present/Future Vanitas and Teenage—er.. 20-year-old Vanitas still thinks it a plot worth working on.

“We both thought that it would be best if those two made up, sure. Roxas was pretty much on board with the plan, but… he’s… not used to being nice to Ven, he literally doesn’t know when to pull his punches and even when he’s joking around, it doesn’t translate well. Ven ends up crying to you, and Roxas gets frustrated with how sensitive Ven is to me.” 

_Well, shit._ He said in his head, face-palming himself at the realization that, with those two, them getting along is like putting water with oil. They’ll never mix, unless a force in this existence would push them together so strongly that they’d have to talk it out. Everything in their lives, the way they were raised and the alienation each of them felt, it varies from the other. They’re both victims of a wrongdoing they had no part of but continued paying with the rest of their lives. They didn’t have to despise each other, in fact, if there’s one person that would understand what each of them was going through, it would be the other. 

“Then there’s you.” Sora sighed, heavily. “You’re such a dickhead. You just had to date both of them, didn’t you?” 

“I didn’t date both of them,” he retorts, folding his arms over his chest. “...Ventus was… the only one I really dated. The only one I really… wanted to be with.” 

It was hard to figure out. It was confusing to have them both look so similar, but Ven was so different. His soul, his entire being, the way he fakes his smiles for everyone else; how he hides his loneliness and rage for the sake of someone else. He was a brilliant light that shone so differently from Roxas’s burning spark. He never felt at rest with Roxas, it was a fight _and_ flight, and neither of them would choose the same. While Ven never pushed him to his extremes and just wades, walking and running along with him. He basked in the comforting light that came from him; he was too busy hating Ven to realize that he’s been falling so hard and so fast for him at the same time. 

He stills. Frozen in his quiet realization, admittedly stunned that the rate of his recovery had skyrocketed since he ran into the memory of Fountain Square and Ven’s sad smile. Was it then… was it the time when he truly, _truly_ fell for him? 

Sora stands up from his seat, stretching his arms up. “Well, that’s refreshing to hear. You being head over heels in love with Ven.” 

He sends him a long and murderous glare that only made Sora laugh. 

“You know what, this calls for a celebration. You, getting your memories back; us, not having to go to work. I say we celebrate!” He cheers, genuinely expectant of hurrahs and fanfares. 

It was a generally productive day. Though he spent most of the time sleeping on Sora's couch or terrace, whichever. There was a lot from his trace that went right and quite a lot of his memories that came back. Though it has its toll, the headache and fatigue along his mental state and psychosomatic need to take a nap were all there, but he'd be damned if he'd say anything of the sort to Sora. 

But… he does have his pajamas on. He's not prepared to go anywhere in public. Yeah, he doesn't give a fuck wearing it around the apartment complex building, but going to somewhere in public in his pajamas is a huge 'no'. They might as well order in some food and turn the TV on. Not even Sora can change his mind on this one. 

“Sora.” 

The brunet was already stepping inside the bedroom, his voice echoing along through the distance. Vanitas raised his brow, the anticipation of what kind of surprise Sora would tumble out with already makes his face contort. Eventually, Sora comes out with a set of clothes and shoes, his face grinning in dubious mischief that Vanitas didn't dare ask. 

“I'm not wearing that.” 

“Oh, c'mon!” Sora whines, putting the stack of clothes on the coffee table. “Why not?”

It wasn't the colors, they were his standard blacks and reds, but the style. Sora had a boy next door look, the kind that would have worn hoodies and comfy sweaters and some faded or washed trousers. It was a look, it was clearly a kind good natured look. Vanitas's style wasn't boy next door at all, it would be closer to call it delinquent from that scary alley. It was leather and bomber jackets, ripped jeans and full on black ones. He's not going to wear Sora's clothes, it's enough that they have similar features, dressing like the other is just screwing with the identities the Universe gave them. 

“You can always go back to your place, take a shower and change your clothes.” He smirks, knowing fully well that Vanitas would rather crawl through the sewers than face Ven at the moment. “See. You're stuck. Just take a shower and borrow my hoodie. Let’s play up the twins card! C’mon!” 

Sora's already pulling him by the arm. Dragging his unwilling and heavy deadweight body across the living room, through the dining and kitchen, throwing him to the bathroom door. It wasn't much of a fight, not with Vanitas actually moving his feet and stepping when he had to. It didn't take away that Sora could carry him, had he needed to be manhandled to the bathroom. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, the view of his tattered undershirt from overuse did nothing for his body. The overly stretched collar showed a peek of his prominent collar bones and defined chest, but the looseness of the shirt took away everything. His hair and face were at least awake, but more than that, there's nothing salvageable. 

The fresh air and walk through the park to clear his head was something he needed, but before he could have it, he needed to take a shower and wear clothes he'd never wear. _The price wasn't that steep_ , he thought and got into the shower. 

It took Vanitas a second before realizing the true reason his subconscious wouldn't let him say 'yes' immediately, and it was Sora's odd love for fragrant shampoos and soap that brought that all back. He stands still under the cascading water, staring at the label for the shampoo: _tropical coconut_. 

_Dammit._

An hour later and Sora had other tricks up his sleeves, and Vanitas was paying for it dearly. The promised black long sleeves and dark trousers were changed to a white shirt and light wash jeans, and to top it off, the shoes Sora lent him were a bright colored yellow with some black markings. He had guessed that Sora would do something like this, but there was also no fighting him when he set his mind to do something. It was either he'd dress in Sora's bright red hoodie jacket and yellow shoes or he'd be dragged out the complex with his tattered undershirt and pajamas.

There was no winning with him and that's why he's standing in the middle of Eastern District Park, red hood up and glowering at the groups of people chattering and looking his way. He looks weird in Sora's clothes, he gets it! They didn't need to look at him like he grew a second face.

“You still glower at everyone, I see.” A man with long brown hair and blue eyes comments, walking to his direction. “But I gotta say, the clothes are an improvement, you don't seem so scary with a white shirt on, Vanitas.”

“Wow. Now that's what I call aging. Did I miss 5 or 15 years, you look freakishly old.” He retorts with a smug look on his face. The man's face twitches, his expression a cross of mild annoyance and shock that his age is used against him. “Don't start battles you can't win, Terra.” 

Terra sighs, his shoulders drooping in a relief. He raises his hand and claps a friendly shake between them. “It's good to see you. Aqua told me what happened. Lost memories, a car accident and… well you know, you and Ven having troubles in paradise.” 

They weren't having troubles in paradise! They had a 'disagreement' but it could hardly even be considered as 'trouble'. He huffs and crosses his arms. This is exactly why he didn't want to visit Aqua, they'd start overreacting and exaggerating everything! Despite the holes in his head, he knows that to Terra and Aqua, with regard to Ven, he had a lot to prove. Those two were like his surrogate parents and between the two of them, Terra was more reasonable. If Terra knew about their little disagreement, there's only one source of where he'd get it from.

“Must your girlfriend tell you everything?”

Terra chuckles. “Nope, my girlfriend doesn't, but my wife does.”

They hear a sigh come from behind them and a soft echoing smack on skin. They turn their heads and Aqua stands behind them, dressed in a fluffy parka and a scarf. She smiles at Vanitas and narrows her eyes over to Terra. 

“You have got to stop with that joke. It's just… it's bad. Vanitas has enough to deal with right now.” She tilts her head, her worried expression gone and replaced by a comforting smile. “Isn't that right, Vanitas?”

 _Is she… is she smiling at me?_ He had expected Aqua to be the one to tear him down with a single look. She was protective of Ven and doesn't take kindly to her 'child' being hurt. In whatever way or form that may be. She's the one that threatened him to never hurt Ventus again or else Vanitas would be lucky to even catch a glimpse of him, more so breathe in the next following seconds of his life. She's more terrifying than her sweet smiles and her threats weren't empty, they're promises she intends to keep. 

She's a frightening woman. 

“Uh… Aqua, I can explain.” 

She laughs and pulls down his red hood. She brushes his reddening cheeks, the colder wind of autumn definitely doing wonders on his normally pale skin. “You don't have to, Ven told me everything. I'm not mad, I'm worried about you. About the two of you.” 

“He's fine, Aqua!” Terra ruffles his head, effectively using his height over him. Vanitas had grown an inch past his shoulders, but it doesn't mean he'd stop with the short jokes just yet. “Just look at him, healthy as a shrimp.”

Aqua slaps her husband's chest playfully, stepping closer to him for a quick hug. He pulls him away from Vanitas, knowing that her husband’s playful nature would eventually tick him off and then where would they be. “How were things in Palamecia?”

“Horrible. Mateus is as hard-headed as ever.” He shuts his eyes, leaning closer to her, letting his tense muscles relax. He leaves Vanitas alone and chooses to sling his arm over his wife's shoulders, giving her another one-armed hug. She giggles under his arms and returns the hug with her arms wrapping around him. “I'm never going back there, not unless you're gonna come with me, Boss.”

“Ugh. Gross, would you two cut that shit out.” Vanitas _carefully_ reminds that he’s within the viewing and hearing vicinity. It was bad enough when Terra bumbled about like an idiot when he was courting Aqua, now that they’re actually married their capability to exude the disgustingly pink-aura is limitless. 

But even if Vanitas complained louder, neither of them would relent. Terra just came back from a business trip from across three continents, it was an entire week of being away from Aqua. It was expected that they’d block off any opinions with how they should act. Vanitas takes a deep sigh and leaves the couple alone, choosing to look for the missing brunet that obviously took his time doing… _whatever it is he’s doing._

He spots Sora sitting on a bench, his phone to the side of his face, his expression a muted glow. The person across the line must be Roxas, no wonder he left him. He rolls his eyes and sits unapologetically next to Sora. He doesn’t hear much of the conversation, since it was Roxas doing all the talking, while Sora would answer with casual conversation interjections of ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s. When the call ends, Sora was as casual as ever, saying his farewells and ‘I love and miss you’ in his lilt tone. 

It was that simple. Easy. _Fucking basic._ Sora just opened his mouth and said what he’s feeling, what he wanted to say, without fuss or worry. It was like magic to him, and it probably showed on his face, because Sora wouldn’t stop laughing when their eyes met. 

“Dude. Trust me, you’re a lot worse than I am.” He continues laughing. 

_Me? Worse?! I can’t even tell him a compliment without being a dick!_ His brows furrowed together, the insinuation that he’s more in tune with his emotions than Sora, making blood rush to his face. There was no way that was true, Sora was so confident about it. So collected when he tells Roxas… _those words_. He can’t fathom ever being comfortable with them enough to say it willingly, or even, in the privacy of their apartment to the person he wanted to say it to. 

“Right. As if.” 

Sora shakes his head, leaving his thoughts and leading him along to the quaint cafe/truck somewhere in the middle of the park. It was almost sunset, the park still free from the rush hour mess of people walking to their homes after work. Hence, their trip for some hot beverages would be just right on time. Once they got to the truck, Sora was in line and he dumbly followed him to it, as if instinct told him to get in line too. Sora ends up buying two steam cups of cappuccino, and his personalized drink that Vanitas could say is just sugar with a hint of caffeine. He was about to trail behind Sora when the barista behind the window of the truck asked him for his order. 

“Doppio espresso and white chocolate mocha. Add some nutmeg and cinnamon on the mocha.” The boy behind the opening of the truck happily notes the orders and enters it into the register in front of him. He turns back to him, accustomed to his job and asks for anything else. “How about a pumpernickel bagel?” 

The barista rings up his order and gives him a cup holder for his drinks and carefully wrapped pumpernickel bagel. It was one of those moments where his subconscious took control, he didn’t know he was hungry, he probably hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast, but he hated pumpernickel bagels, he’s on the side of an everything bagel—why in the world would he even buy a white chocolate mocha with nutmeg and cinnamon? He shakes his head and catches up to Sora, who’s already giving the cappuccinos to Terra and Aqua. 

“Are you hungry, Vanitas?” Aqua asks, noticing the cups and bagels on him. 

Vanitas blinks at her, his head devoid of an explanation and hands her the bagel. “Do you want it, I don’t really know why I got a bagel.” _and this… ridiculously specific drink._

Aqua exchanges looks with Terra, their smiles holding a hidden meaning to them. Vanitas wanted to pester them about it but his hands were literally full, and it’s not like bothering and pestering them would work. He’s tried. He sighs, staring incredulously at the piece of bread in his hands, questioning why he’d waste money on a bagel he hates. 

“Sorry! Sorry! I missed my train!” 

_Ventus?_ His mind immediately says, his body turning around to where his friends were looking. Sure enough, it was Ven, dressing in another oversized ensemble; navy blue knitwear, some warm looking red scarf, khaki trousers and boots. He looked cozy and ridiculously comfortable that teenaged-not-crushing Vanitas would have called him a bouncing pillow, but as he is, with the erratic pounding on his chest, all he could think of was diving in for a hug. 

He didn't. Of course. Going in for a hug, when they barely had a decent conversation. He left the apartment after saying he didn't want to give him affection… he can't come back at the end of the day and do something like that. Ven would just get angry at him and say that his actions weren't supposed to be based on what he's 'supposed' to do. 

Ironic that his returning memories only made him want to wrap the tiny blonde into his arms and never let go. He'd scold him for saying the dumbshit he does, taking the blame and saying it's his fault why shit happens, but he'd rather have that talk on the bed, their arms around each other as they tirelessly talk until the morning. 

“Ven!” Aqua catches him into a warm hug, the knitwear that wore him folding over Aqua’s arms, revealing just how small Ven really is. Aqua ruffles his head. “It’s so good to see you!” 

“Gimme a break, Aqua.” He shoos her hands away, mildly embarrassed. “We just saw each other.” He glances towards the figure over her back and sees Terra. “You, I haven’t seen you in months!” 

Terra, Aqua and Ven completely fell into their own world, they were best friends, with Ven doubling in for their surrogate son back in college. The couple easily digresses into their own worries, stories and catch up routine that Sora and Vanitas ended up staring (Vanitas) and laughing (Sora) from the sidelines. The three would have devolved into their own group, had Terra not noticed the situation and tied their spectators back into the loop, Ven apologizing for getting too excited and carried away. 

Sora nudges Vanitas, seemingly unnoticed by their small group. “Shouldn’t you be giving that to someone?” He eyes the bagel and the cups in the holder. 

Ven was turned to Aqua, completely immersed in her story. He laughed and grinned, teased and smiled, it was clear that he was enjoying himself. It was an expression that he thought he wouldn’t see today, with how they left things. He made his way to him, inching in his steps, until he’s close enough that Aqua points to him, making Ven turn around with a huge smile… that faltered once they met Vanitas’s amber. 

“Do you want this?” He raises the bagel to eye level and holds the cup that was marked ‘WCM’ on the side. 

“For me? Y-yeah. Thanks...” He notices the markings on the cup and takes it with a somber smile. He opened the bagel bag with some help from his teeth and found himself completely surprised. “You even got my favorite kind of bagel.” 

Vanitas was high-key proud, he felt the corners of his lips edge up in pride. It was a lucky guess, but how many lucky guesses has he been having. It’s like Naminé said, it’s muscle memory; his body remembers, his mind knows, and sooner or later, his consciousness would trace those moments back too. 

The others have already gone ahead, Aqua suggested that they get dinner together and catch up some more. It was rare to have Terra back in Radiant Gardens, Aqua has him to depend on for marketing exposure and client meet-ups. Aqua had started her own accessory line that's currently hitting big with the market. At least, it's what he heard, from the three meter distance he keeps from them. He kept his pace slow, intentionally to be next to Ven. 

“How… did you know?”

He shrugs, trying to act cool and play off his own ecstatic feelings. He bought the drink and bagel out of a subconscious urge, he’s not sure whether it falls within something he’s ‘supposed’ to do, or what he _wanted_ to do. “Lucky guess.” 

“Oh. Right.” Ven smiles at him, kind and gentle. The hollow smile from his memory comes to mind as he fakes a laugh and hurries along back to Sora or Aqua.

He did the right thing, he didn’t want to put too much affection on something he didn’t really want to do. He didn’t want to poke Ven again and re-make the mess of the morning they had. At least, not in front of their friends, they were having a grand time: Sora, mostly leading the conversation with his never ending adventures, and Terra would follow up with another interesting story from overseas and cross continents trivia and facts. 

They sat in circular, the small diner was kind enough to put them on a table for a larger party, but all Vanitas could see was the three person space between himself and Ven, and the quarter-person space he has with Terra. It was putting him in a foul mood, but he had to maintain his cool. He could always move towards Ven, closing the gap to at least a one person gap.

“Hey, Aqua? The heater’s a bit much on my end, can we switch places?” Ven says, pushing his sweater’s sleeves up and pulling at the thick turtleneck bundled over his neck. Aqua, as expected, easily agrees and gives up her seat. She’s still next to Terra, but the switch placed Ven in between Terra _and_ Sora. Vanitas is in an even fouler mood than before. 

Sora nudges him from under the table, mouthing to Vanitas: ‘what did you do?’. He shrugs and goes back to paying attention to the stories being told by both Aqua and Terra. They've long passed dinner and have gone on to have a round of cold drinks. Aqua has her own bottle, as well as the others, and he's confident enough that all four of them can handle their alcohol. The four being himself, Aqua, Terra and Sora. Ventus on the other hand… had already turned pink. 

Then, the issue that Ven has a loose lip when it comes to being drunk, only made their awkward exchange particularly noticeable, the way they skip around each other like hot lava. Ven acted less obviously, but his eyes do linger when Vanitas wasn't looking. While Vanitas was as subtle as a truck. His attention was only on Ven, the very short times they weren't was if he's getting personally addressed or talked to. Other than that, his eyes would often look at Ven like a lost kitten, meowing for attention. 

Eventually, he takes pity on himself and excuses himself from the group. Ven looked like he was genuinely happy to catch up with them, and everyone felt the same too. He said he needed some air, and they all agreed that he could walk around outside and come back when he's feeling less dizzy or drunk. 

_I think agitated is more apt._

He comes back an hour later, the diner's customers are all gone except the four on the large table. He sees them from the entrance, Terra's chin resting over Aqua's shoulder, while Aqua continues explaining how her small online hobby became her actual job. While Sora had leaned in his propped up arm with Ven's head casually falling over Sora's shoulder. 

The dark and murderous feeling was back with a vengeance. It was as if his sight narrowed so quickly and without a second thought he pushed Ven's head away from Sora's shoulder and pulled him up from his seat. 

“Why do you have to push yourself like this? No, don't reason with me. We're going home.” He takes Ven's limp arms and puts it over his neck, lifting Ven over his back to a piggyback. He locks his arms under Ven's knees and turns back to their group of friends that were snickering at the scene.

“Vani, I'm good. I promise.” He mumbles incoherently, hugging Vanitas like a koala. He nuzzles his neck. “Mhmm-mhm… you're overreacting, isn't he, Aqua? I'm fine!”

Aqua giggles and signalling one of the waiters for the bill. “I think you should sleep, Ven.”

“What? No! I'm fine… I'm fine…” He nears his mouth to Vanitas's ear, hugging his neck tight, saying 'closer, closer, it's supposed to be a secret' loudly. “Vani… I'm fine right, tell them I'm fine. They don't believe me, but they'll believe you.”

Vanitas snickers and fixes his hold over him, bouncing him up his back. Shaking his head as he sees the irony of the request. He's the one that wanted him to stop, why in the world would he tell them that. Ven slumps against him, his head resting over his shoulder. 

“I'm taking him home. Let's continue this another time?” 

He manages to say, despite the arms around his neck. He wanted to say more, but the hot breath near his neck and ear is starting to make consequences appear and pop up. It wasn’t how he wanted to end the night, since he’s missed Terra and Aqua too, and hanging out with Sora was always something he looked forward to, but he’d much rather take Ventus home. 

He arrives home with Ven on his back. He takes him straight to the bedroom, dropping him carefully over the bed. He takes off his boots, pulling away his layers and the knit sweater over his head. Ven grumbles and groans with being led like a puppet around undressing himself, his glossy eyes land on Vanitas in the dark and did the last thing Vanitas wanted. He started talking, not just ‘talking’, he started saying words that would have made Vanitas spontaneously combust into ashes. 

“You’re so hot.” 

He freezes in his tracks, in his hands were the recently pulled sweater. He wanted to put Ven into fresh clothing, that was the plan, and then Ven says those three words and Vanitas hovers over him like a stone statue. 

“You’re really out of it. You’re not going drinking anymore, are we clear?”

Ven pouts at him in frustration. “You’re supposed to say ‘thank you’.” 

“What?”” Vanitas discards the knitwear into their laundry basket. Pulling one of his shirts from his side of the closet and walking back to Ven. He crosses his arms and refuses to put his arms through the sleeves, making Vanitas sigh in defeat. “Ventus, stop being difficult.” 

“You’re being difficult.” He mumbles with a huff. “I just told you a compliment and you didn’t even say ‘thank you’.” 

He snickers and takes a seat next to him on the bed, cupping his warm cheeks in his hands. Ven’s puffed up cheek and furrowed eyes greets him. He’s obviously throwing a drunk tantrum and Vanitas had never found him cuter. He bites the inside of his cheek and makes their noses touch. “Alright. You win. Thank you.” 

“Okay! Now, it’s your turn!” He cheers with an obvious slur. He presses a soft kiss over Vanitas’s smirking lips and pulls back. “Give me a compliment!” He demands playfully completely unaware with how haywired Vanitas is with his little peck.

He stutters, opening his mouth with any sound or words coming out. His fingers hover over his own lips, entranced. The only way he broke out of his reverie was when Ven threw himself over his arm, wanting attention and demanding for his compliment. 

“You… need to sleep.” He finishes, pressing a soft kiss over Ven’s forehead. 

Ven frowns and crawls into bed, getting under the covers with his frown in place. He glares at Vanitas, as he’s being tucked under the blankets. Vanitas knew he’s still hung up over the lack of the compliment, it was a drunken logic, but it’s what Ven believes. He’s not going to stop glaring at him until he gives him one. It was. lowkey, the most endearing thing he’d seen, but he has a feeling that whatever he says probably wouldn’t matter. Ven was drunk out of his mind, he even gave him a kiss—there’s a high chance he won’t remember a thing since the dinner. 

“Vani…?”

He hums in response. 

“Why don’t you tell me you love me anymore?” Ven’s round blue eyes glimmer under the sheen of light from the windows. “I miss you so much, Vanitas.”

Vanitas combs back the blonde hair on his face, smiling. He waits until Ven shuts his eyes before he makes his exit. He fixes the pillows over his makeshift bed and stares up into the dark ceiling. 

_I miss you too, Ven._

  
  
  


Vanitas didn’t mean to stay up and eavesdrop, he was in his ‘bed’, all cozy with his blanket and pillow, but he could hear someone’s muffled voice speaking. It was undoubtedly Ven, speaking to someone on the phone. Vanitas wondered who could be so important that he’d pull himself from his inebriated self at three in the morning, to talk with them on the phone. Sure, he’s not clear with how he should feel. He can’t really say he ‘loves’ him, or that he has ‘romantic’ feelings for him, but he _likes_ Ven. He likes Ven enough that he’s going to march up to their bedroom and tell him to go back to sleep and put himself over someone else for once, and get some rest. 

He approached their bedroom door quietly, realizing that the door was already ajar. Inside, Ven was curled into a ball, covered by the blanket. He pokes his head inside, ready to tell him to get off the phone, when he hears him whimper and sniffle. Ven grabs the pillow beside him and hugs it to himself, using it to quiet the sobs he’s making. 

“I’m so scared Aqua. What if… What if he never remembers?”

_Is he… talking about me?_

“It’s been a month or more… but he still feels nothing. He doesn’t remember me or anything. I don’t know what to do anymore, Aqua…” He hiccups and curls further into himself, dragging the blanket to his side 

Vanitas wanted to melt into a puddle and never materialize again. He had been trying, he even has some of his memories now. They’re not complete but these pieces are all he has, and he cherishes it. He remembers meeting Ven again, he remembers that he did, in fact, ask him out. He remembers… the difficult part of their past. He remembers telling Xion that he’d never want to hurt him, he’d never want to cause him any pain too, and that’s perhaps the real reason he found himself staring at his feet, weighed down by guilt and a broken promise. 

It’s not the memories that were really the problem, he thinks. It was the _feelings_ , the real and true feelings his Present/Future self had for Ven. The feelings that he’s still unclear with. 

He can’t say that he loves Ven. He can’t even say that he has _feelings_ for Ven. Everything is too vague, too mixed and muddled with how he remembers things and the feelings that interacting with Ven after the accident made. 

Ven had always been patient with him, he was kind and took care of him. Even with the huge hole inside his head, or at the expense of having his childish self in place of the boyfriend that loves him; Ven welcomed him home, he smiled and tried his hardest to get along with him, even as he stares at him with a longing gaze that he could neither return or feel anything but embarrassment from. 

“What if this is it? What if he never remembers… what if even if his memories come back… all of his feelings for me are gone? I spent years being in love with him and he never looked at me twice! What if this is it… what if all I ever was to him is a rebound from Roxas?” He sobs, crying loudly into the quiet room. “I don’t think I could go back to that…” 

There was silence in the air, the suffocating guilt hanging over Vanitas’s head, neck and limbs. It’s like he’s hearing Ven for the first time. He had been grateful that Ven had welcomed him, accepted him and forgave him for the misgivings his lack of memories made him do, but he never knew… just how pained Ven was because of it. 

“You should have seen it. Whenever I get too close to him, or when I tell him about the things we do as a couple. The things we’ve done before. He looks so disgusted with it. I disgust him.”

 _That’s not true!_ He wanted to say, gripping his hands into fists. He’s not disgusted with him, it’s not even remotely close to what he felt. It’s the idea that they've done something so deeply intimate and romantic that completely frazzles him. He’s not disgusted with Ven, he’s just… taken by surprise. 

“He’s not. It’s impossible for him to fall in love with me again. It was a miracle that he ever did.” 

He pauses, sniffling. “He _won’t._ He doesn’t like me. And sometimes I think that Vanitas fell in love with me, unwillingly… you know? He never really saw me- _me_ from the start, I was just…” he trails off, the anticipation Vanitas felt could turn electric at any moment, but Ven doesn’t say a word, It was as if Aqua knew exactly what he’s talking about. “Because deep down, I knew he’s a good person. I knew that he was hurting… and maybe it was wrong for me… but I was so, _so desperate_ to be loved by him—I know it’s not like that anymore but…” 

A part of Vanitas wanted to stick his head back out and close the door. He wanted to leave and shout at the balcony because he’s such a fucking asshole that didn’t deserve the couch he slept on. Hearing Ven say those words, the way he talks about him and how much of an asshole he was, made him want to punch himself. Even with only a quarter of the memories back, he knew that a part of him wanted to _love_ Ven. He wanted to, but he’s just not sure if what he’s feeling is because he’s supposed to love Ven, or because he does… love Ven. 

_What did he mean ‘unwillingly’? What, did he… hypnotize me?_

“I just don’t think I can do this anymore…” his voice was muffled with a pillow. “Sometimes he sounds like how he used to be… and I’d think every time that maybe, _just maybe_ he’s back but then, every time he’s… he’s not I almost want to hate him. I miss my Vanitas so much.” He hiccups, his sobs bouncing around the dark room, the balls himself further, the lump under the blanket quivering. “I just want him back already.” 

The dull ache in his chest turned to sharp stabs. He hated seeing Ven like this. He hated hearing him cry, he hated looking at him curled under the blankets. Lost. Abandoned. _Forgotten._ Absolutely hopeless as he lets his tears run down his face. 

He wanted to make it better, he wanted to go there and comfort him, but he knew how well the last time ended, and that was just yesterday. His feet plants on the ground, as hopelessly confused as Ven is. 

The sound of the phone being discarded back to the side table sounds with a ‘tac’. The call ended because there was nothing else Aqua would get from Ven. He was drunk, partially, and his sobering up meant his pent up emotions have come to burst. He pulls the covers over his head and curls himself against a pillow, stifling his sobs with it.

_Does he always do this? Cry himself to sleep?_

Vanitas, perplexed with himself, found himself taking a step forward. His mind still in debate, his emotional state as confused as ever. He doesn’t want to start another fight, he doesn’t want to be yelled at for trying to comfort him. But his entire body moved forward, still, like it doesn’t matter whether Ven starts a fight with him. He doesn’t know how he’s going to go about it, but he reaches the edge of the bed and sits next to the curled up ball underneath. 

“Ven.” He calls out, pulling the covers down to reveal his wet eyes, cheeks and lips. His mouth gapes at him, shocked at his sudden appearance. He sniffs and swallows his sobs, wiping away his tears with the base of his palms, only to be immediately replaced. 

“I… I… Vanitas… N-not now, I promise it’s… N-nothing just… a bad dream.” He tries to pull the covers back over himself, but Vanitas, with a new found stubbornness, kept his grip over the blanket and shook his head. Ven sniffs again, his eyes rimmed red and sparkled under the light, he sinks lower into the covers, in a stubborn attempt to overthrow Vanitas’s hold over his blanket. “I told you… it’s nothing, just a dream…” 

Vanitas wanted to chuckle at how silly it was, he’s crying his eyes out and he’s still so passionately willing to get his way with the means available to him. He slips down, kneeling beside the bed to be eye-level with Ven’s teary eyes. He reaches out with his own hand, wiping the tears away in the quiet, making him cry even more. 

Panicking, Ven moves away to the other side of the bed, taking the blanket with him. He was forcing himself to stop crying, willing his eyes closed in hopes that it would stop. But nothing he did could make him stop crying, it poured and slipped through his eyelids and he knew he’s going to have to cry it out. 

Vanitas takes the space on the bed, reaching out once more to cup Ven’s face into his hands. “Come here.” 

It was as if the words he spoke were a ‘pause’ button. It made Ven stare at him in shock, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide. “W-what…?”

“You heard me.” Vanitas sighs and shakes his head, he scoots closer and slips his arm around Ven’s torso, pulling him closer to his chest. 

“V-Vanitas…—“Ven hesitates, feeling himself pulled closer to him. His face buried over the folds of his shirt, his tears cascading down to the fabric. He tries his best to stop his tears again, knowing that Vanitas doesn’t really like having other body fluids on his shirt at 18. Especially his. 

“It’s fine.” He runs his fingers through his hair, pulling him into a tighter embrace. Ven scoots closer, until he’s sobbing into his chest, his hand grabbing a handful of his shirt as he lets go of himself. He wails with hot tears, his pain evident with every sob; his entire body shook and all Vanitas could do was hold him closer. 

“I’ll come back to you, Ven. I promise.” 


End file.
